


Highly Unlikely

by DiamondJedi



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hatred, Mutation, Points of View, The Cure, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, ex-boyfriend, minor racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4209165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondJedi/pseuds/DiamondJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight months after the attack on Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Highly Unlikely

**Author's Note:**

> This is story is told entirely in the point of view of each character.

**_Rogue's Point of View:_ **

I sat quietly on the curb, never moving an inch from where the police officer had planted me. Stationary, oblivious to the mayhem overrunning the city streets with police units, paramedics and the media, I stared at my hand. What was supposed to be dripped in blood was clean and free of the substance that declared my own mortality. I couldn't imagine how such an occurrence had come about. And I didn't want to think about it. Thinking gave rise to old fears that had haunted me long before I had taken 'The Cure' to rid myself of my mutation.

I gripped the blanket and brought the edges tightly around me as whispers began to assault my eardrums. Co-workers, acquaintances and life-time devotees to the First National Bank stood in the far ground trying to make sense of the madness that had struck hours earlier. It was an attempted heist gone terribly wrong, although no one was hurt, everyone was still reeling from the effects. Everyone except me. I didn't want to be reminded of the incident within the financial building. I wanted to escape. To head home and forget what had transpired.

"She was shot," I heard one of them say and turned ever so slightly.

A wealth of eyes bombarded me and I huddled inside the heavy, coarse, blanket to escape the inquisitive, fretful expressions on their faces. My hand slid across the lower part of belly, grazing my blouse which had been shredded and singed from the gun fire. A trembling finger poked the four holes resting against smooth skin. I shivered in great alarm. Thoughts overrun my mind with images of a fateful second that narrowly had me close to the gates of some alternate world or heaven. Instead, I was sitting on the corner of First and Third Avenue trying to decipher how and why I was still alive.

A stream of murmurs ensnared my attention again. I knew what those standing behind me were pondering at this moment. Mutant. Freak. A threat to society. I heard it all before. Seen it. Lived it. It was one of the reasons I had taken 'The Cure'. I wanted to save myself from a life of persecution and injustice. Some would call it the coward's way out, but I grew tired of the difficulties that came in life. And I got tired of my skin. I got tired of never being able to feel or touch without regret or apprehension. I got tired of not being able to truly live.

Weary of the conversation swelling behind me, the distance, the eyes pressing into the small of my back, I rose and turned to glance behind me one more time. A police officer was questioning a group of people. I met the eyes of a thirty-two year old woman; her countenance blackened as she looked me over with a dark animosity and pulled her two small crying children closer.

"It was a two man team," a man said and others nodded, corroborating with his story. "She was shot."

The officer rotated his body and directed his eyes at me. His dark eyes trailed down the length of my figure before settling on my face again. A frown intensified his heavyset face and leathery skin. He seemed unsure of his approach as he tucked his pen and note pad into his shirt pocket. Old fears renewed their spirits when I noticed one of my colleagues mouth the word mutant. It was then I turned and fled into the chaotic disorder flooding the streets.

"Hey, miss wait!"

I heard him calling after me but didn't stop. I weaved through two police cars and disappeared behind a large fire truck. Ahead of me, a host of people stood on the sidewalk observing the traumatic spectacle. I dove into the crowd and felt safe momentarily till I heard the officer forceful command that I stop. I didn't. I wanted to get out of there and head home. Thrusting deeper into the crowd, I bumped shoulders with someone of medium height, and staggered backwards.

"Hey, watch it!" The person she collided shoulders with bellowed.

Disbelief flooded into me. The voice was familiar. Too familiar. It hit me with a garish attitude I had not heard since the X-Mansion. I turned and sought out the bearer of the voice and locked with two steel, cold eyes. They stared at me in a mild hostility. I focused to take in his whole face. My mouth fell open.

St. John! Pyro?

I thought he was dead; a victim of Jean's explosives powers that had leveled Alcatraz to a pile of rubble. Bobby had told me John had perished. Surprisingly, I was deeply saddened by his lost. Once upon a time we were friends, a threesome like the three Musketeers. Yet inevitably we were divided by ideals that thrust us on different paths.

"P-Pyro?" I said softly so none other could hear.

He blinked. His azure eyes scratched the surface of my face, turning harsh and cold in recognition before relaxing into a confused air. "Who? I'm sorry but you must got the wrong guy, lady."

I drew back, perplexed. "John, it's me. R-Rogue."

His face grew stern then traveled past my face to the eye the cop coming toward me. "You have me mistaken for someone else." He said loud enough for the officer coming up behind her and people in the vicinity to hear.

"John—" I said irritation evident in my voice.

"Thanks," the officer said. He bent over wheezing, struggling to catch his breath. His corpulent size added to strain on his heart as his fat belly rose and fell with each intake of breath. He tipped his head to the group he had left behind. "They said you were injured. I need to escort you to the paramedics."

"Oh, that won't be necessary officer," I replied, my accent growing heavier as the tension within me mounted.

He dimmed his eyes on me. "I have to be certain miss."

"There's no need." I swept my right hand over my chest to show no harm had befallen me. I noticed the look in John's eyes and the doubt glimmering in the overweight officer.

"That may be," he said wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's procedure to have you taken down the emergency room plus some detectives would like to take your statement."

I became impatient. So impatient I literally wanted to stamp my feet. "Is this truly necessary?"

"Yes," he frowned.

"Lead the way."

I surrendered and followed him to the nearest ambulance where a female paramedic came to assist me. I climbed into the back of the vehicle and sat on a gurney. There I searched the crowd for John. He was gone.

* * *

I had an enormous amount of sick days. Why the hell didn't I use them? If I had I wouldn't have suffered the indignity of being belittled by an arrogant doctor or questioned as if I were a criminal by two detectives. What made matters worse? The nurse had been unable to take samples of my blood because the needles broke each time she poked my skin. Her apathetic manner reduced to a natural phobia everyone undertook when they were afraid of something that was different or misunderstood.

I was practically thrown out out of the hospital—once they realized I was a mutant—so that I wouldn't upset the other patients and staff members. Upset? They are _upset!_ I flagged a cab and sulked all the way home.  I was somewhat amazed I wasn't arrested.  I guessed with Dr. McCoy becoming Secretary of State there was a semi-tolerance.  But not enough.

Gritting my teeth, I stuck my key into the door of my apartment and entered. Closing the door, I leaned into the hard surface and took three deep breaths to slow my thundering heart. Upset! I'm the one who should be up. I was treated like monster because I bore different genes. And I was peeved about this substance Worthington Labs had the nerve to call a 'Cure'.

A 'Cure' to what?

It was supposed to vanquish the mutation that had held my life hostage. So what was taking shape beneath the layers of flesh and bone? I faced a small mirror hanging on the door to my left and trembled. I was changing right before my eyes and didn't know what to anticipate next or how to stop it. It was at this moment I wished for the Professor's counsel. He would always have a logical reason for things that were in-explainable, things that were beyond my control. But the Professor was dead along with two other formidable members of the X-Men. Lives lost all because of 'The Cure'.

Tears brim the edge of my lashes but I fought them. It made me yearn for the comfort of another and the motive for journeying three thousand miles to San Francisco to live. I was still clueless to the grounds on why I had chosen the focal point a furious standoff between mutants and humanity. I could have chosen Seattle, Washington but it rained too often. I would never have a good hair day. Nevada was way too hot and L.A. was far too expensive. In truth I flipped a coin. I was either Sacramento or San Francisco; the city meant nothing to me but a place of residence.

Besides, it was the distance I desired. I wanted as much land between me and Bobby Drake as humanly possible. Also, I didn't speak another language so leaving the country was out of the question. Pain squeezed my chest and I flinched. Eight months and I was still thinking about him. I was still shaken and hurt. When I expressed doubt on the choice I had made to take 'The Cure' his response foretold his aims and purposes. To Bobby Drake, I was unconquered vessel, and 'The Cure' had finally given him liberties that could have never occurred formerly in our relationship.

I slammed my fist on the door and pushed away from it. Storming to my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes and flung my purse on the bed. I crawled out my clothes and jumped into the shower, lingering for nearly an hour. I came out and dressed in pink pajamas and pulled on my slippers. A ravenous hunger gripped my stomach. I hadn't eaten since lunch which was a mandarin chicken salad from Wendy's and that was it. Opening the refrigerator door I scanned measly the contents within and settled for left over Chinese tucked in the far corner.

"I need to go shopping," I said and popped the item into the microwave.

I then went into the living room and turned on the news. Surprise. Surprise. The robbery was on several new stations including video images from inside the bank. I dropped into my sofa when I saw myself being assaulted by the second gunmen. His partner—on the other hand—was terrified. I could see it in his eyes. I thought I could reason with him, which was why I foolishly came away from my post to implore him to put down the gun. Instead, four shots hammered me and I fell not in pain but fright.

Disgusted, I watched the replay before rising to retrieve my dinner. I shared it onto a plate and on my way back to the couch I pressed the answering machine. Over a dozen messages flashed wildly. The first was Jubilee's squawking nervously on the other line. Two others were Kitty and Siyrn. I made a mental note to return their calls once I had finished eating.

The fourth was Logan and I smiled warmly when he demanded I return home. His concern was earnest and sweet. I would be lying to myself if I didn't acknowledge the feelings I held for him. It was love. But it was strictly platonic, not romantic. True, I once had a crush on once him and he played a part in a few vivid nighttime fantasies. However, as time went by, the feelings changed to friendship and adoration. Logan filled the void my real father abandoned. He was a protector and true companion.

Ororo Munroe eloquent voice graced the machine next then Jubilee and Kitty and a few other whose names I couldn't recall. I was surprised to hear my manager call and say the work I was leave of absence till further notice. I smirked. It took heaven and earth to ask that man for a day off and here he was telling us to take a break. I would have laugh if the situation hadn't been serious. He gave me several contact numbers including a therapist.

"Nice," I frowned and munched on an egg roll.

Beep. Beep. The machine played its final message.

"Hey Rogue? It's me. I know you said you never wanted to speak to me again, but I had to call and see if you were okay."

I almost choked. Bobby! How the hell did he get this number? Who gave it to him for that matter? Frozen, I listened to his sorry appeal.

"Rogue, please," he sighed. "Call me. I need to speak to you."

I rose and marched towards the answering machine. My heart raced with each step.

"Rogue. I miss—"

Deleted.

I couldn't hear anymore. I didn't want to listen to his excuses or be swayed by his words. I wanted to forget about him and move on. I returned to the couch. A strange coldness raced through my body. I sat quietly for a while and stared haunted at the TV screen. I felt a tears slip down my cheek and seethed angrily. Wiping my face, I picked up the remote and surfed through the channels, dead set on forgetting Bobby Drake.

A meteorologist on the Weather Channel reported a severe thunderstorm set to happen later in the evening. Completing my meal, I placed the plate on the floor and lay back on the couch, pulling a woolen blanket across my legs. I continued flipping the channels then landed on the Soap Net, a station that recycled the morning soaps, and got comfortable. I was grateful such a channel existed that way I could watch the Young and the Restless without missing a beat.

I awoke to darkness and heavy rainfall drumming my windows. I leaned over and tried to turn on my lamp but it didn't work. Panic seized me and I shot upwards in couch. It was so dark I could barely see my hand in front my face. Slowly rising, I staggered to the window. Darkness shrouded a three block radius of neighborhood. A good distance away, I could see a street lights breaking into the darkness and sighed. Power outage. Wonderful. Ever careful I crossed the living room to my bedroom, remembering I kept a flash light in one of the nightstands. I found it and flicked it on glad to have some light. I flashed it on the clock on the wall. It was one-thirty.

Balancing the flashlight on the dresser, I started to take the quilt and decorated pillows off my bed when I heard a noise that startled me. Frozen stiff, I listened for a moment but heard nothing, only the pounding rain and thunder clapping in the darkness. I brushed the noise aside as an aftermath of the turbulent storm outside and resumed getting ready for bed. The noise came again; a strange scratching and bumping against my veranda door. Hesitant, I walked slowly to the door and thrust it open. Rain water poured inside.

"Who's there?" I called out, using the flashlight to scan the darkness. I screamed when something moved and pinned the light on a black cat hunkered in the shadows. "Hey," I said, sighing in relief. "How in the world did you get all the way up here?" The animal crouched low and hissed. "Don't be frightened." I scooped the animal up and held it close. It was shivering and wet and I felt sorry for it. "Poor thing." I carried it inside. I got a towel and dried it off. "Want some milk?" I asked it once it was warm and dry. "Sorry but I have no cat food so tuna fish will have to do."

In the darkness I retrieved the items and put them in two small bowls for the feline. I watched it eat and smiled, curious as to how the creature had gotten all the way up to my apartment, particularly when the only fire exit was the staircase located inside my apartment building. "I bet you have a family somewhere," I said. "Someone who might be missing you." Mystical green-yellow eyes rose to mine. "No, me too, no one is missing me either. At least not my parents." I swallowed, the anguish bubbling inside and sniffed. "Well enjoy and I'll see what to do about you tomorrow." I left the animal to its feast and went to bed.

I awoke the next morning to a wet sensation on my face and startled. "Hey," I laughed, spying the cat resting on my chest. "Either you're hungry or looking for attention." I climbed out bed and went to bathroom to take a shower and brush my teeth. Wearing fresh clothes, I went to the kitchen to see about breakfast. Unfortunately, the power had not returned.

"Great." I huffed and slammed cupboard doors closed. I looked down at the feline sitting beside me, twitching its tail. "Looks like its milk and tuna for you again and Denny's for me." Assured the cat had enough to last, I grabbed my purse and jacket, and also decided this was the day I was going to stock up on groceries.

I took a cab to a Denny's I knew that was close by and had a hearty breakfast. Afterwards, I took in a little shopping before going to the supermarket. It was three p.m. when I finally came home to an angry little feline meowing at the door. "Well," I said dumping my bags on the kitchen counter after I put the closed I had purchased on the bed. "Getting comfortable aren't we. I should have known. Feed them twice and they don't want to leave. Well, don't worry. I got you enough food to last about a week or so. You're on probation. I'm still deciding whether or not I want to keep you." I fixed the inquisitive cat some food and watched it eat. "I think I'll call you Ebony, regardless if you're male or female. With your black shinny coat it fits you." I was happy to see the power had returned and prepared my own lunch.

I went into the living room and sat on the couch ready to watch some TV. To my dismay I received snow on all the channels. "Great," I scoffed and tossed the remote aside. I guess it was to the movies tonight. Before heading out, I kept my promise and called everyone who had left a message on my answering machine. Everyone except Bobby. I made it a point never to speak to him and I wasn't going back on that promise.

* * *

Two days passed and when the cable had not been restored I notified the company. They told me they were deeply sorry for the trouble and claimed the storm had knocked out many systems and would send someone to restore it within two to three days. Glorious. Another it would be a week almost before I saw TV again. Not that it troubled me but since I was not to return to work until further notice, it did put a damper on the afternoons when I really had nothing to do. I would have to find ways to make the time pass. Just so, I went to the public library, and for the first time in almost five years got a library card.

"Cable guy," came a voice after the doorbell rang.

I lowered the book I was reading and stared eyes wide. "They're early," I said to myself one afternoon and got up to open the door for them. Naturally, I was expecting to suffer two more days before anyone arrived to fix my cable. I removed the chain and turned the latch and stood paralyzed in horror once I pulled the door open.

"Marie D'Ancanto. So, you do have a name after all."

"John!  What the fuck!" I gasped, completely stupefied.

He was in a blue and white uniform and a cap with the company insignia printed and name plate pinned on shirt. He stared grimly at me. "You gonna let me in or what?"

"You're a cable repair man?"

"Like it's hard," he scoffed. "You take the course. You pass the test. How fucking difficult is that?" I made a face. Same ol' John. Not even a dress code and a job had changed him. He was still a harden rebel.  A pessimistic as with a snide tongue to match. "Look Marie," he checked his watch. "I'm press for time here. You want your shit restored or not?"

I stepped aside and widened the door. He walked into my apartment with a confident swagger that left me shaking my head. Indeed, he hadn't changed.

"Nice digs," he said complimenting my household.

"Thanks," I replied, somewhat nervous he was in my home, shocked he was even alive.

"I live in a one room rat's nest on the on the east side." He scoffed.

"Bummer," I said absently, folding my arms over my chest. I closed the door. "Can we get this over with?"

He regarded me and smiled. "Already want me gone huh?"

"You're here to work John." I said. "This is not a reunion. Don't expect me to be cordial, especially after you deserted us to join the Brotherhood."

"What's wrong with following an ideal? What's wrong with the ideal of mutant liberation or do you want to be treated like parasite for the rest of your life. But I'm not surprise you're literally a bloodsucking leech." He saw a flash of hurt emerge in her eyes and grinned.

"You such a dick, John," I spat, rigid with anger. I shied away to dry the tears from my eyes. "I don't want to argue with you John. Just repair the cable and go!"

I whirled around and stomped to the kitchen, wanting to escape his cruel gaze, twisted philosophy and unquestionable rudeness. He always seemed to get a rise out of me. Even at the mansion he always managed to work my nerves and frustrate the hell out me. It was strange to think about. I admit he had a flare that made him alluring and it tempted a part of me I kept suppressed and hidden. I don't know why. I guess I was afraid of that sort of freedom. I couldn't risk reveling in its nature where my skin was concerned. Perhaps that was the reason I was dated Bobby. He was safe. He was responsible. He was sensible. Nevertheless, there was a time I was drawn to John's alluring psychedelic appeal.

I crept out of the kitchen once I had put the dishes away and watched him work. He unloaded several electrical instruments and placed them on the floor. He rose to his feet and turned the box so the back faced front and inserted a gauge into a slot then turned on the TV and box. He frowned and removed the gauge and shut off the TV and system. He proceeded to open the cable box and inspect its internal mechanism. I must say I was deeply impressed by how attuned to his task he was. As I watched him I grew curious, questions coming to mind.

"I—I thought—you—they told me—you were—dead."

"Who told you? Bobby? Yeah," he snorted. "I bet he did."

I stepped to him. "Alcatraz was completely destroyed John."

"I was lucky," he said impatiently as he worked. "I don't know how but I was. I woke up six weeks later in a hospital and they told me I was the only survivor."

"Oh," I exhaled.

He looked up at me. "Then those bastards, figuring I was a mutant and wanting to play it safe, they gave me what they had of that fucking 'Cure'."

"What?" I cried.

"Yeah," he said, his mouth twisted bitterly. "Exactly what I said."

It was one thing to take 'The Cure' by choice, another to have it administered without consent. It was a violation of rights and civil liberties. I cringed. Although, I had doubts and regretted taking the Cure. John's case was a total violation. I could understand why he didn't want to be referred to as Pyro. He wasn't Pyro anymore.

"So, where's Bobby? You two shacking up. Never did thank him for that little stunt he pulled." He grumbled reminded of the nasty bump on the head. Yet he had to give him his due. When came to war fighting dirty sometimes went with the territory. Though he must say it was something he never expected from the jerk.

"He's not here. He's back in Westchester aiding Miss Munroe with the school, finishing college there, blah blah blah, why do you care?"

He shrugged. "I don't. I'm just surprised he's not glued to your side. I figured where you go, he would be there that's all."

"We're not together anymore."

"Really," he said looking me over. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I snapped, folding my arms. "Look, just finish your job then leave." I spun around and headed to the kitchen again.

"Alright," he fired. "Don't get all bitchy because Bobby dumped you."

I felt as if he had slapped me in the face and spun around fuming. "You asshole."

"I never denied it," he laughed.

I wanted to kill him and would have choked him to death if the Death Penalty wasn't so enforced in this state. Pacing the kitchen I tried to bank down the rage splitting me in two. How could he be so callus? Why do I always let him get to me? Leaning against the sink, I took deep breaths to calm myself.

"You're gonna need a new system. Whoa! Calm down," he said when he saw me jump. "It's only me."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I seethed. "What is it now?"

He lifted my box and showed it to me. "This box is fried I'm gonna run down to the truck and get you a brand new one."

"Oh," I said. "It must have shorted out when the power went out."

He nodded. "That's why you should always turn if off before you got to bed."

I glared at him. "I fell asleep. Sue me."

"I might," he grinned and departed for his truck.

"Ugh," I growled when he was gone and threw a dish towel at the wall. He returned minutes later and headed towards the living room.

"I'll soon be out of your hair."

"The sooner the better," I muttered.

He gave me a guarded look. "I heard that." He set up my box and within a few minutes civilization had returned to large TV screen. "Voila."

"Great," I said exhilarated

He picked up the remote and sat down on the couch. He looked quite comfortable there. It was then Ebony came out of her hiding place and jumped on the couch. She stared at him curiously. "I didn't know you adopted a cat."

"I didn't. He or she adopted me actually," I said scooping the cat up and stroking its black fur.

"You don't know what sex your cat is?"

"I found it on my veranda purring and scratching my door. What?"

"Nothing."

"I need to feed him or her."

"I'm not stopping you." He waved me away.

I shook my headed and returned to the kitchen. Once Ebony was set I grabbed a Pepsi from the fridge then wondered if John might want a cold drink.

"Thanks." He popped the lid and took a hard swig.

I noticed he had stopped on the Soap Network and hadn't changed the channel since. "You like watching Soap Operas." I was greatly surprised.

He hardened. "What of it?"

"Big bad Johnny likes soaps."

"It's my thing Marie, leave it the fuck alone."

We sat watching without saying another word to each other, yet every often I stole a glance at him. He made no further mention of Bobby to which I was eternally grateful as I reached for my soda. Our hands met accidentally and rush of warmth raced up my skin on contact. I drew back alarmed spilling my soda on the carpet. "Shit!"

I raced to the kitchen. Snatching a towel I hurried back and started to dab at the spot. I felt him watching me and sweat broke out on my back. Anxious, I rose and disappeared in the kitchen, glad to be out of his sight. I didn't know what was happening, not to mention my reaction to his touch. It was an accident and yet something occurred. Something fleeting. Something I didn't want to acknowledge. Feeling hungry I started to make a sandwich when he startled me again.

"Jesus," he said noticing I had stabbed my hand. He took it and inspected it. I was sure what startled him even more was that his fingers were touching my bare skin and there was no deadly effect. "You should have a war wound by now." He lifted his eyes to mine.

"I—I—know," I yanked my hand away from him. I looked at him and saw a somber look on his face.

"You took 'The Cure' didn't you?"

I stiffened, ever ready for an attack. "I had to. It was ruining my life John. But it was all for not." I looked away, hurt.

"Bobby?"

I nodded.

"Son of a bitch."

"Tell me about it." I glanced his way. "I don't know what's happening to me John and quite frankly I'm scared."

"I know how you feel, particularly when I can now do this now." He opened his hand and a small flame was danced in the center of his palm. I stood stunned by the sight. He was no longer manipulating the fire he was now creating it. "Want to know what I think? It's not a 'Cure' at least not anymore."

We talked for a while, coming to our own brand of conclusions about 'The Cure'. Almost loosing track of time, John packed up his equipment and tug on his hat. I was almost sad to see him leave. But he told me he was running late and had other places to go to. I paid him with a check and escorted him out the door. "It was nice to see you John."

"Yeah," he said and started down the hall then stopped. "Hey, why don't we go out for a drink some time?"

A weird part of me wanted to jump at it.  It would be nice to hang out with a old friend.  Pretend it was life back at the mansion before ideals tore everything to shit. But he was Pyro.  He had betrayed us and I was still reeling from my break-up with Bobby. Still healing. It wasn't a date but drinks always led to dates. "I'd like to," I said, "but that's highly unlikely."

John merely shrugged and headed on his way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after the attack on Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect.

**_Rogue's Point of View:_ **

I never expected to run into John again. Hell, I thought I would never see him again. After all, he was a cable repair man and was on call all the time. Yet, three days later I stepped out in a dismal San Francisco afternoon. Rain showered in heavy torrents from the heavens, transforming the rolling side walks into rivers and waterfalls. Exiting the supermarket I was immediately drenched in a matter of seconds while attempting to flag down a cab. Sadly, traffic on the street was light. It seemed like everyone in the whole of San Francisco was trying to get out of the weather.

I scrambled up the hill to the bus stop, hoping to have luck there when one of my grocery bags burst. Feminine products and shaving cream littered the sidewalk. I swore a blue streak and dropped to the ground to gather up my items. I glared at several people who had passed me by. Two had given me a weird look. I wanted to beat the living daylights out of them especially the bag boy. Stuffing my items into the other bags in my possession, I prayed they would not break in the strain. Then I was suddenly shielded from the heavy rain and figured a Good Samaritan with an umbrella had come to my assistance.

"Thanks." I said and lifted my eyes to greet a face covered in shadows.

"You should get yourself one of these," John said, mockingly.

My jaw touched the ground. What was he doing here? Was he stalking me? I pushed the idea out of my mind as I rose to my feet. "Are you following me?"

"You wish," he chuckled.

"Then what are doing here John?"

"You have a strange sense of gratitude," he said stepping towards me, bringing his umbrella under the both of us. "Besides it's a free country."

"Well," I said taking a step back, "I better get going."

I was soaked to bone, desperate to get out these wet clothes, and his probing eyes. Just seeing him again sparked memories of the touch and my reaction. I felt myself growing flustered and lowered my head to hide my face.

"What's your hurry?" he demanded.

I gave him a hard look. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing," he said without care. "Just seems like you're running from me or something."

"Running—from you." I spat. "Please!"

Silence fell on our traded words as we stood staring at each other in the rain. I wanted to leave but his eyes held me captive. There was a beauty and fierceness in them that made my stomach tighten.

"Come on," John said taking two of my bags. "Let's get you dry." He walked away leaving me to the mercy of the elements. I watched, eyes wide, as he walked a few feet then turned. "Come on. What? You want to catch a cold?"

I skipped after him and ducked under his umbrella. He led me to a bar that wasn't shabby but it wasn't the high end sophisticated depots some of co-workers and I went to. He was greeted by a middle aged bartender and I guessed this was a local hang out for John on weekends. The bartender, going by the name of Mike, was gracious enough to give me a towel to mop my skin dry and wring out my hair. John threw out an order for two beers. I trailed him to a corner booth and sat down to dry myself. I was grateful some of the items did not need to be put in the fridge right away. I started to blush, noting that one of the bags John had carried held a box of Playtex tampons.

"What?" He asked, looking me oddly.

"Nothing."

"Here you are?" A waitress said putting two beers on the table.

"Thanks Rosie," John said squeezing a wad of cash in her hand. "And let me get two shots of Bourbon for me and my friend here. She needs to get fired up."

"You got it."

She left to get his order and returned in a moment with two small shot glasses. He picked his shot glass and threw down the hard liquor. Hissing, he slammed the small cup on the table. "Drink up. It will warm you."

"No thanks, I don't drink." I said wrapping the towel around me but it did little to stop the shivers.

He eyed me closely. "Don't drink. I figured with the Wolverine in your head you would guzzle this shit down by the gallons."

"I try not to let the personalities inside my head run me over. You take it. You wash down some of that trash you always talk"

He soured. "Why the hell are you so fucking bitchy? I'm trying to be nice here and you're cutting my nuts off."

"Why don't we cut to the chase John?" I said. "Being nice is not your style? It was never you."

"Maybe 'The Cure' gave me a change of heart." He said taking a sip of his beer.

"Change yes," I said dryly. "Heart? I didn't know you had one."

He glared at me his eyes burning, almost on fire. "I always had a heart Marie. I'm just smart enough not to wear on my sleeve like you."

I steamed. "What do you know about it?"

"I know enough," he said passively. "Drink up Marie I paying for them."

"Don't call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"Marie."

He gave me an incredulous look. "It's your fucking name isn't it?"

"I never gave you permission to use it." I seethed.

"Who did you give? Logan, a guy who was barely interested or Bobby, a prick who screwed you and then dumped you."

Tears filled my eyes and I clenched my teeth livid. I surged to my feet and threw my beer in his face. "Fuck you John!" I grabbed my stuff and stormed out of the joint. Drenched. Cold. I decided I'd rather deal with the weather than John Allerdyce.

* * *

 

I woke up Monday morning bright and early determined not to think about my little stint with John. I was determined to put on a pleasant face for work after a two week sabbatical and yet he engaged my thoughts with bitter diatribes that made me grip my tooth brush in fury as I brushed my teeth. I couldn't believe after two days I was thinking about what he said to me. The coldness of his words. The arrogance. It had hurt so deeply that I cried the second I stepped through the door.

I cried because what John had said was true and it made me realize how pathetic my life had been. I was once in love with a man I was too young to have and then loved a boy who used me for his own selfish pleasures. True I was the one who dumped Bobby in end; but it still hurt as did everything else in my life. And it hurt that John was right.

Forcing myself to get ready, I headed to work with my head held high. I wasn't about to allow the likes of John Allerdyce drag me into a depression. Nevertheless, I felt the oppressive weight of something much worse the minute I stepped into the bank. Sharp eyes came in from all directions. I saw people leaning to each other and whispering. I clutched my purse and made my way to the lounge.

"Miss D'Ancanto."

I turned around and saw Katherine, a loan agent, seated at her desk. "Yes."

"Mr. Stevens would like a word with you in his office." I felt a hard thump in my chest as a dark forewarning struck me.

"Now."

She nodded and continued to scrutinize an application for a home mortgage. Sauntering to the elevator, I held my purse close, and rode it up the twelfth floor. I then proceeded towards the sixth door on the right, ignoring the heads that lifted to gawk at me as I passed offices.

Mr. Stevens, the bank manager, was reclined in his chair and on the phone. A lean man with even features and thinning hair, he had a tenacity for efficiency and was meticulously austere in the work order. Everything had to be precise. Acknowledging me, he waved me inside and bid me to take a seat with the flick of his wrist. I sank into one of two chair positioned in front of his desk, my breath coming out in pants. I tried to center my thoughts rather than mull over the inevitable. I prayed it wasn't the worst.

He eventually ended his conversation. Shifting in his seat, he regarded me and released a heavy sigh. "Miss D'Ancanto."

"Sir," I said nervously.

"I hope you understand the seriousness of your actions the other day."

"I do sir."

"Really." He arched a brow, his thin lips became tight. "Because you put not only your life in harm's way, but your fellow co-workers and the good people who trust in the stability of the First National Bank. This establishment has no place for rash action and stupidity. Heroes are entitled to policemen and firefighters not our employees. Therefore, we have no choice but to let you go."

"You're firing me," I said alarmed.

"You're too much of a liability Miss D'Ancanto." His eyes dropped from me and turned to the computer screen on his right. "Don't worry you will be given a severance package. It will be mailed to you so you don't have to come into the bank and disturb the other employees."

He busied himself with work and I sat there in the chair like an idiot until he glanced up and asked me to leave. Tears stinging the back of my eyes, I headed out his office and rushed to the elevator. I cleared the bank in ten seconds flat and stormed down the avenue, my hair flying wildly. Angry tears rolled down my face and my chest was heaving.

I wanted to stomp, scream till my throat was raw, but it all ended with me somberly accepting the situation. After hours of wandering the streets of San Francisco, I took a cab home. I was greeted by Ebony; the feisty feline weaved through my legs and meowed. I picked her up and smoothed my hand over her silky, black coat. A visit to the Vet two days ago had confirmed there were now two females residing in the household. "You won't believe the day I've had." I carried her to my bedroom and placed her on the bed. I turned and headed for the bathroom. She jumped down and followed me and hiked up onto the toilette seat.

I ran a bath and got out my clothes. I added bath oil then tested the temperature. It was perfect. I dimmed the lights and turned on some New Age music, intent on soaking for at least an hour. Submerged in the water I lay my head back and covered my face with a warm rag. Once I felt like had soak the ills of the day away, I put on a pink tank shirt and white shorts and prepared Ebony's food and some lunch for myself when the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Damn girl, don't you have a fucking job or something? You're always home."

I nearly dropped the phone. "How did you get this number John?"

"I have my resources."

I started to think of where he could have possibly gotten my number. Then I realized it was a part the cable company's records. "You're breeching protocol you know that don't you?"

He snorted. "What the hell are they gonna do fire me?"

"They might."

"Not if you rat me out."

"I might."

"So why are home any way," he said ignoring my threat.

"That's none of your business."

He chuckled. "What? Did you get fired or something?"

I held the phone tightly, resentful to the fact he had nailed it. I stuttered. "No," I lied. "I wasn't—feeling—good."

"You need to learn how lie," he remarked and my face reddened. There was a long pause and I thought he had hung up but his voice came over the phone again. "You really pissed me off when you left me hanging the other day."

"I pissed you off!"

"Yeah," he said cynical. "And thanks for making me look like an asshole in front of everyone."

"You are an asshole!" I shouted.

"Whatever."

"Look John I'd really loved to stay and have this fulfilling conversation but I have things to do."

"Like what feed your cat and watch TV." He started laughing and I slammed the phone down in vexation. I stomped to living and switched on the television just as he predicted. The phone rang and I answered it. It was John again and I hung up. He called me three more times and I grew annoyed.

"Listen John, leave me alone!" I bellowed.

"Whoa kid! Don't blow a gasket! It's me!"

"Logan," I exhaled in relief, falling against the cushions.

"What's the matter?" He asked concerned. "You got some pervert stalking yah. Making crank calls?"

"You can say that," I groaned.

"Want me to deal with 'em?"

"You're all the way in New York. You're no use to me."

"Never stopped me before."

"Don't I know it," I laughed.

"So how come you're home so early," Logan asked. "I figured you be back at work by now."

I hesitated before answering. "I—g—got—the day—off."

"Really," he droned.

I closed my eyes, knowing fully, Logan had sniffed out the truth. But I didn't want him worry. He always did worry about me. "Yeah," I sighed heavily, "really."

"Come on Rogue," Logan coaxed. "It's me and I'm no one's fool."

Raking a hand through my hair, I leaned forward, my head dipping slightly. "Don't worry about it Logan. I have it under control."

"Alright." I heard him say although I heard the break in his voice, the anger brewing underneath an even tone. He was downright furious. He knew I been fired because of the incident. Bidding him farewell, I placed my phone back on the receiver, and rose to stretch.

I wasn't in a total lost or was I strep for cash. Right before I left the mansion, Ororo handed me an envelope. Inside was a check of a considerable amount. Astonished, I looked at her and she simply nodded. She explained that it was according to the Professor's wishes as stipulated in his will. Those of us without family or a home to return to would be given starting out money if we chose to pursue a life outside the mansion. It was hard for me to accept the money, hard to accept the fact that the Professor was gone and never coming back.

I rose and walked out onto the terrace to stare out into the distance, I watched the sky deepen into an amber shade as the sun began to set into the horizon. Hearing the phone ring again, I entered my apartment. Poor Logan. The man was still determined to be my protector. "Logan, don't worry about me, I have everything under control."

"Wrong mutant Stripes."

My eyes darkened with rage. "John!"

"Yep."

"What do I owe this fourth phone call?"

"An apology that's what you owe," he said coldly.

"What—?"

"And I think dinner tonight would make up for your rude behavior: hanging up on me, not mention throwing beer in my face." He listed.

I couldn't believe he was asking me out. "Dinner?"

"Yeah, at Red Lobster, seven sharp."

He gave me directions to the restaurant and ended the call without giving me a chance to kindly reject his offer. I lingered on the phone till I heard the automated operator instruct me to hang up or dial a number. Stunned, confused, I put the phone on the cradle and walked in into my bedroom. I marked the time on the digital clock sitting on my night stand. It was five forty-five. I headed to the bathroom. I couldn't believe I was actually going.

* * *

Thirty minutes after my arrival at Red Lobster, I sat fuming, waiting for John to appear. Furious, I locked eyes with my wristwatch then at couples and families entering the restaurant in herds. Bitterness began to take shape. What could have possibly possessed me to come here? What was I thinking? It was true I had nothing better to do and watching the last episode of the Sopranos for the second time was tempting, but after ten more minutes I was now renewing my avid hatred of the flame wielding mutant. Too imagine for one brief moment I thought John had amended to a better man. A job and steady income. His conduct displayed otherwise.

Grinding my teeth together I rose and gave one final glance at the restaurant. I had to give him credit for his choice. It rested on shores of the majestic bay that parted through the city. The water glimmered in the moonlight and lapped softly against the bank adding to the appeal of the sea food bistro. I was glad it was a good distance from the ruins of Golden Gate Bridge. The last thing I wanted to see was the remnants of a horrific battle or to be reminded John had been there.

I tugged my jacket closer about me and started down the walkway. I wanted to get out of there fast and leave him stranded and see how he would like it. I strolled pass a group of guys who hooted and howled at me. I flashed the tallest one a dark look. He grinned. Tapping one of his friends on the shoulder and advanced towards me. He was cute, curling blond hair. He was a tall, strapping fellow, probably played College football for he was wearing a school emblem on his jacket. Either way, I was in no mood for anymore bullshit.

"What's happenin' baby?" he said. "Alone?"

"Yes, I'd like to keep it that way," I snapped.

"She's a loaded pistol," one of his friends mocked.

He tossed his friend an annoyed look then smiled at me. "We're heading to the Rave. Care to join us?"

"I don't think so."

"Come on," he said tipping his head. "What? It's obvious you're alone. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone. Who's gonna miss you?"

"Me."

Stunned, I twirled on my heels to see John standing a good foot from us. He looked between the two of us his blues deadly. He looked ready to strike at the guy that was trying to win my affections. A wealth of shivers raced up my spine at the sight of him. He exactly as he did the day those two creeps harassed us at the museum in New York. He walked slowly to me and the football jock earnestly working to gain my favor.

"Sorry I'm late. Took me a while to get a cab, especially in my neighborhood." He glared at the guy beside me. He had retreated to the safety of his friends. "Let's eat," John said taking me by the arm, half dragging me to the restaurant.

"Hey," I said, protesting his assault on my arm. "Let go." I wrenched free and stepped away from him. "I'm not going to dinner with you."

"What do you mean?" he grumbled.

"I mean I was sitting on that bench John," I began testily. "Waiting for your ass like a fool for more than thirty minutes."

"I told you I had trouble getting a cab. Jesus, what do you want a sonnet to go with the apology?"

I folded my arms. "Maybe."

"And you wonder why Bobby dumped you. You are so fucking high maintenance."

Anguish shot into my chest. Shaking, I curled and uncurled my hand only to let it right palm open and fly through the air. I hit his face with a loud slap. He simply twisted his mouth and stared me with those soulless blue eyes. "Feel better."

"Goddamn you John."

"He already has." He glared at me for a second then abandoned me. "I'm hungry," he stated rather impatiently. "Do what you want?"

I stood there panting heavily; my heart galloping. Wounds I wanted to bury gushed forth endlessly. Tears burned. I hated him so much I wanted to kill him. I wished my powers were active. I could drain him till he could no longer forge a word on that smart mouth of his. I would be rid of him. But I found myself walking, standing at his side in front of a pretty hostess who guided us to our table. We were seated outside on the upper deck overlooking the river. Boats streamed with lights floated slowly on the water. If it were not for the hostility and brash words traded I would have found the whole scene quite romantic.

"Have a nice evening," she smiled, handing us our menus.

"Too late," I murmured and flipped my menu open. I held it high covering John's face. I didn't want to look at him at the moment. I scanned the appetizers and dinner prepared.

"Decided?"

I lowered the menu and stared at him. He appeared bored. I noted a red blemish coloring his cheek and felt a fleeting bad for my behavior. I straightened. NO! John wasn't going to pull any guilt out of me. He insulted me. I simply justified my feelings.

"I'll have the grilled swordfish." I closed my menu and set it beside me.

His lips curled into a debonair smile. "Thought the Wolverine in you would favor steak."

"Too high in calories and fat," I replied, glancing out onto the moonlight water.

"Slimming? What for Bobby's long gone." I had it. I collected my purse and pushed my chair back. "Leaving so soon?"

"I've had a real shitty day John. I don't need this."

He leaned back in his chair, holding up his hands in an act of surrender. "Fine," he said. "I won't mention the Boy Scout again or anything to press your tender frailties."

For him it was a start one that might not last. I sank into the chair just as our waiter approached. He took our orders then disappeared. We sat moping, not speaking, not looking at each another. Tension cut into the evening like a sharp knife. I heard him breath in a puff of air and lifted my eyes to his face. I could tell he was ill at ease. He detested uncomfortable silences. It rankled him.

"So," I said, deciding to show some good cheer. "What do you do at the cable company?"

"Fix cable," he replied flatly, his face contorting in mockery to my stupid question.

I sighed; my attempt to strike up a conversation was a failure. Honestly, asking him about his job was not the sort of inquiries that came to mind. I really wanted to know why he left. Why he joined Magneto? What drove him to such bitterness and malice, besides the prejudice that rained in from the world every day? Why? It screamed in my head, making me wince. I picked up my goblet of ice water and took a large gulp. He watched me cocking his head to the side.

"So," he said, his soft lips pouting. "Why did you leave the mansion? I thought you an X-Men to the end."

I coughed. His question had mirrored mine. "I—got—tired of—the constant shadow of death. Make no mistake, I care and miss the Professor, but it grew tedious putting on a sad face. It nearly became a sin to laugh in that place. I don't think it's what he would have wanted for us in his absence."

He nodded and moved a fork out of place. "You miss it."

"Sometimes," I shrugged. Slowly, I raised my eyes to his face, wondering. "D—do you miss—the mansion?"

"I miss the food," he remarked, snickering.

I found myself laughing, easing into a conversation with John. We made a silent promise not to tread on each other's old skeletons no matter how great the temptation. Speaking of better times, it was delightful talking about our misadventures at the mansion.

"I did like you," he admitted after a hearty meal and several beers, two he made me drink with him. "Before Bobby and his pathetic ice rose, before the three of us became you and him."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He merely shrugged and drank his beer. "What difference would it make? You already made your bed?"

I stiffened. Rage ignited a vicious temper, but I held my peace. "And don't you wish you slept in it?" I clucked.

I caught the change in is facial features, the hardening of his jaw, and smiled. Victory was fleeting. He rose and excused himself. I sat alone; he was gone awhile. I began to worry, and felt a little embarrassed, and rose to look for him. I panicked when I couldn't find him and went stand by the railing. I couldn't figure out why I felt so terrible. How many awful bards had he thrown my way? He'd been cruel, distasteful and downright uncaring. I stared out onto the river, breathing in the salty air and a faint mist blew in on the night air. Suddenly John appeared and stood beside me. I gulped, awaited a sarcastic blare to my coarse remark.

"Let's get out of here," he said.

Mouth agape I turned and saw him head to our table. He laid a considerable amount of money in a small black folder and handed it the waiter then he walked to the main building. I followed him, cautious, unsure how his action would evolve as we departed and took a walk down the district.

I clutched my purse and bit my lip. Tremors exploded in tune to my fretted nerves. To my horror, he took my hand in his; swinging me around, he took my lips boldly. Delicious quivers resonated throughout every cell in my being. His mouth was sensuous and hot, stroking the flames burning in my skin. Disbelief melded with a wild arousal as I found myself pressing into him. His body was hard, hot, extremely inviting. Heat pulsated from him in waves. He sucked on my bottom lip before sliding his tongue inside the warm cavern of my mouth. A moan escaped me as I clung to him, drinking his essence. His expertise was alarming. I felt a rise in me that was literally about to take me over as he teased my mouth.

He then drew back, obtaining an angry grunt from me, and he smiled. I opened my eyes to greet a satisfied look on his face. He knew. He knew I wanted him, always, wanted him. That if he hadn't left…if he hadn't become Magneto's henchmen…I would have eventually dumped Bobby for him.

I would.

I shoved him back, furious. Angry at his confidence and at my body's betrayal to feelings old and new. "I hope you enjoyed that because it won't happen again."

"So you say." He grinned then turned to hail a cab.

The ride home was sheer agony. John made no move to touch me or rub his triumph over my emotions in my face. When the cab stopped in front of my apartment building, he got out and walked me to the steps. My heart pulsed. I thought he was going to make another try to kiss me but he did nothing.

Nothing at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after the attack Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect

**_Rogue's Point of View:_ **

"Damn it, stop thinking about him," I hissed in vexation, while busying myself with a day's cleaning. From ceiling to floor, I powered my way across my apartment armed with a cleaning supply caddy. Occasionally, I would steal a glance at my phone, hesitant yet at the same time anticipating a phone call from John. But he didn't call. Even after our bizarre date, I still had no word from him.

I kept thinking about what he said. Over and over, his harsh words rolled in my head. I started to watch the phones religiously, hoping he would call, and I would be comforted by the sound of his voice. A week passed without as much as a hello. Rage transformed to tears and I grew embittered. I felt foolish. Common sense told me to despise him with every breath in my body. To hate him for everything he was and for how he made me feel. Nevertheless, John's presence crept into the very mire of my being in the quiet of night. I would stretch out my hand over the empty space in longing, thinking of John.

I craved his heat.

It was an uncanny sensation to the abysmal cold I was used to. Frustration mounted. And I was starting to have difficulty going to sleep. The intensity of the kiss John and I shared even now left me tingling; leaving me tossing and turning in the sheets. Night after night I would reminisce on a mouth that had delivered passions I had hungered from I did love. Restless, my fingers eventually traveled south to put an end to the strain and want building around a single kiss. I finally sleep only through the gift of self-gratification which left me hollow and empty in the morning. In need of distraction I went job hunting and managed to secure a position as a secretary at a law firm. I was lucky. They didn't dig deep into my pass or found out about that little stunt at the bank.

Banks, for me, were out of the question. Who needed the stress of worrying about you're going to get robbed. I didn't. A second week flew by without a hitch and no word from John. Sadly, I abandoned the idea he would call and focused on my life. I telephoned Logan and told him of my new job. He was glad to hear I was out of harm's way even though he still wanted me to come home. He wanted me safe. He asked me of other things I was smart to keep my date with John out of the picture. The last thing I desired was a raving Logan. But what did it matter he was never going to call.

* * *

 

On my day off, I sat with Ebony on the couch eating a bowl of Edy's ice cream. It was a clear afternoon, but unusually hot for San Francisco. I had no intention of stepping out in the boiling heat. It only reminded me of someone I wanted to forget. Sitting cross legged on the couch, a bowl of ice-cream in my like, I watched a movie on Lifetime, and was all set to discover the identity of the murderer when the phone rang. "Great," I huffed and set the volume to mute. "Hello."

"I figured you'd be sitting by the phone, waiting for my call," John chuckled. "Don't I feel special?"

I blackened. "You got some goddamn nerve calling me."

"What did I do now?"

"It's what you didn't do John."

"And what is that? Call?" I knew he was smirking on the other end, which only increased my ire. "I have better things to do. Besides I've got a job to do and it makes me very tired at the end of the day. The last thing I want to do is call you and talk and talk and talk and talk as you females love to do. You'd have me up all fucking night."

I didn't know whether I should observe the sense in what he said or be insulted. John was a conundrum of logic and rudeness. It made it difficult for me to like or hate him. "You could have just said hi."

"Hence the trap. A 'hello' is never good enough. Women are always complaining about how guys don't talk and you would've probably goaded me into a long, boring conversation."

"You know me John." I said. "I was never a big talker."

"Years at the mansion change a person."

"Didn't change you did it." I clenched my teeth. I couldn't believe I said that. I heard him pause and take a breath. I knew he was weighing my words. I pondered if I'd stuck a nerve with him.

"You didn't know me from when I first got there."

"You were worse than what you are now?"

He laughed. "I was living nightmare for the Professor." I saddened at the mention of my mentor and father figure to all mutants seeking refuge at X-Mansion. "I wanted to burn everything. I couldn't get enough of fire. I needed to see it. Touch it. Watch it take shape and spread."

"Explains why you always toy with your lighter."

"It's a reaction to my desire to burn—and—other things." I heard a falter in his voice and grew concerned. Was his fiddling with that metal item a way to counter feelings he never spoke of? I yearned to ask but remained silent. "What are you doing now?" I knew he was deliberately changing the subject; trying to deter me from discussions into his personal life.

"Uh—watching—Lifetime Movie Network." I heard the doorbell ring. "Hold on there's someone at the door."

"Blow them off."

"Wait," I said. "I have to see what they want."

"Marie."

"Wait, John."

Ensuring the chain was set, I tried to peer through the peephole, but something was obstructing my vision. Hesitant, I opened the door slowly, and his voice hit me in stereo. "Did you get rid of them?"

I gasped as I looked John square in the face. He was leaning casually against the doorpost; his cell phone was glued to his ears. I clicked the button my phone. "You jerk."

He laughed and hung up his phone. "Can I come in?"

I hesitated before widening the door. "So," I asked, watching as he walked gallantly to the sofa and dropped into it. "Why are you here?"

"I had the day off."

"You want to spend it with me?" My heart leapt with excitement.

"Well my other ladies are kinda busy," he shrugged and flipped the channels on my television.

"Very funny." I darkened. Not wanting to consider the idea of other women in his life running loose in San Francisco. "Besides, I'm not one of your ladies."

He looked at me, lips curling into a smile. "Not yet."

I shivered and tried to hide it. "How bold we are?" I stomped to the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

"I'll take a beer if you have it love." He spoke in a perfect Australian accent, startling me, and I peered out at him in surprise.

"What's with the accent?"

"Never met a distant cousin of the British Empire luv," he flashed me a cheeky grin.

"You're—Australian?"

"Born and raised till I was nine—then things turned to shit—" He sank deep into the cushions, his jaw twitching, dark shadows touching his face. I walked nervously out of the kitchen, two Pepsis in my hand. He gazed up at me and arched a brow.

"Sorry, no beer." He took the soda and popped the tab and drank. "Was this all before your powers manifested?" He nodded. "So early?"

"Xavier said it happens sometimes." He muttered. "Some of us get our powers early." I sat heavily on the couch; anxious to learn more, yet I didn't try to rush him. If he was going to unburden himself, I wasn't going to force it out of him. Instead he grew silent, mindlessly flipping channel after channel, bringing an end to the inquiries into his past. My mind, however, churned. John never spoke with an accent, indicating his nationality as an Australian. He probably immigrated to the United States and lived in the country so long, that part of him slowly began to fade away.

How old was he? Twenty-one?

Ebony scampered to me and meowed, desiring a little attention and affection. I picked her up but she hoped out of my arms and went to John. He looked down at her with open skepticism as she purred and rubbed her head into his arm. "I think she likes you," I smiled.

He stroked her black coat. "She has good taste." After a good while, he hopped to his feet and looked down at me. "Well, go get dressed."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

I eyed him closely. He shook his head and walked out onto the veranda. "You got one hour, if you're not ready by then, I'll go."

To my amazement, I didn't want that so I got up and went into my bedroom. I didn't know what to expect as we sat in the cab made our way downtown. John was silent. His eyes were glued to his side of the window. I fidgeted and tapped my feet uneasily. He soon regarded my frantic motions with a sideways glance and bid me to stop for it was annoying him.

The cab turned east and headed to the marina. I saw a large ship and an outlay of a dozen cars and people getting aboard the cruiser. It was one of those ships that left the harbor and floated down the river out to sea and back. Providing passengers with a glorious view of the sun sinking on the ocean's horizon. There was dinner, dancing, a gambling if anyone desired. My heart pounded. I was completely overwhelmed. Quickly, my eyes peeled towards John. He was unresponsive.

He paid the driver when we came as close as we could to the ocean liner and got out. I smoothed a hand down my sundress as he came over to my side and opened the door. He took my hand and a wave emotion shot like an electrical current up my hand.

"You're taking me on the cruiser?" I had to ask. I dared not think it possible he could be this romantic.

"I saw the way you were looking at the ships that were passing by the other night and figured you'd like to go on one," he said.

I lunged forward and kissed him on the cheek. He grinned and laced his fingers with mine and led me down to the peer. The sheer animation of the whole venture had not lifted as we gradually made our way down the gangplank. Bidding one or two of the crew good night, we climbed into a cab and head for my apartment. I never imagined John, Pyro, was capable of doing something so sweet, so selfless. I now knew then that everyone was wrong about him. He had just been dealt a bad hand in life. He just needed support and someone to put their faith in him. Could I be that person John needed? I was scared to even dream of such a thing. I had been injured in my own partaking of love and feared suffering another brutal injury.

I was also battling myself and another seed that was gradually taking root. As of this moment, I wanted John in my bed. I should feel shameful. Be embarrassed by the thoughts cruising at high speed along the neurons of my brain steam, sending me shivers and quakes in my stomach. I squeezed my toes and bit my lip. I shouldn't feel this way. Hell, I wasn't a virgin, so fear and anxiety were not a problem. But technically it was my first time...with John...and that was significant in itself. Not to mention the kiss we shared on the top deck of the ship. His lips were pure magic. I wanted to reclaim the fervor that took me into oblivion.

How was it possible I could feel this way for someone who was once an enemy? Then again, he wasn't my enemy. I didn't face him at Alcatraz. I didn't fight. I chose the road many mutants traveled. I chose acceptance rather take a last stand to fight for our rights.

I directed my gaze to John. His head was back and his eyes were closed. Was he sleeping? I hoped not. I didn't want him to be too tired to do what I wanted him to do tonight. I scooted close to him and brushed a strand of hair back from his brow. The texture was soft and appealing to my fingertips. Bobby told me John had dyed his hair blood and had cut it into some crude, wild style.

However, I saw no trace of the villainous entity he had taken on himself. It was long and dark brown just as it was the first time I met him. I couldn't see him as a blond. The shade didn't fit him. I liked his hair this color. The brown drew out the brilliant hue of his eyes. I drew my fingers down the side of his face and carefully traced his lips. Beautiful, full, I yearned to kiss them.

A hand clamped my wrist and I yelped. John stared at me with half open eyes. I lowered my eyes and bit my bottom lip. My pulsed hammered into his palm as he folded it upwards and drew it to his lips. I caught my breath, watched as he kissed it, and then he drew me close to him. He rubbed the back of his knuckles against my face, his other hand massaging the small of my back. Suddenly, I was lost in a kiss that left me giddy.

"We're here love birds," the driver announced.

I groaned and slithered from his hold and flopped into to my side of the cab. John shoved his hand into his pocket and fished out his wallet. "Walk me to my apartment John," I said, my voice warm like milk. He nodded and but stopped in front of the building.

He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. "Good-night Marie." He turned to leave and I tried to dissuade him.

"Why don't you come up for night cap?" God! Could I have sounded more desperate? I didn't care.

He shook his head. "No," he said. "It's better I go."

Incredulous, I stared at him mouth open. Wasn't he the one claiming he would have me someday? Here I was standing at the edge of my apartment building, my body fuming with heat. I felt like I was going explode if he didn't take me this very instant. What was he waiting for? Did he think I was doing this out of revenge? A means to forget Bobby and the life I had with him. "John," I exhaled, lowering my eyes to the ground. "This has nothing to do with Bobby."

His face grew sour and his eyes flickered. I frowned. He turned and walked up the street; the cab had already departed leaving him stranded. My insides twisted at the sight of seeing him going. Absently, I journeyed indoors to my apartment. Reaching my door, I pulled out my keys, entered my apartment. Ebony scurried to me purring. I petted her head and went to shower and tugged on my nightshirt. As I made ready for bed I heard the doorbell ring. I went to the door and hiked up onto my toes and saw John standing in the hallway. Taking a breath, I opened the door. I stepped back as he entered his hands shoved in his pockets. The longing in his eyes mirrored my own along with a slight hesitation.

"Marie," he breathed.

I ran to him and flung his arms around his neck. I pulled his head down and took his mouth in a heady kiss. He gathered me into his arms, picking me up off the ground. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I planted moist kisses along his face as he carried me into the bedroom, kicking the door shut.

* * *

 

"John," I asked, awaking from a blissful night, turning in the sheets at the sound of movement and frowned slight when I saw him getting dressed. "Where are you doing?"

"I've got go," he replied, buckling his belt, scrapping his shirt from off the ground.

"Why?" I turned my head toward the window. It was dawn, barely. The sun had not taken its dominate place in the sky and I looked at the time. It was 6:45 am. "It's early."

"I know," he sank into the mattress to tug on his boots. "I've got to be at work in two hours and I have to travel clear across town to get home and put on my uniform."

"Okay," I said, unsure of how to react to his leaving, particularly after we had sex. It wasn't love making, but pure, unadulterated, sex. "I'll—uh—make you—some breakfast." I tossed the sheet aside and collected my nightshirt from the floor and stood.

John came over and placed a hand on my shoulder, massaging gently. "Don't bother I'll grab something on the way to work. Besides you got to be up in a few hours for work right." I nodded. Tucking a tendril behind my ear, he leaned forward and kissed me. "I'll see you in a bit." He straightened and started walking out the bedroom.

I sank onto the mattress. "Call me?"

"Promise." He winked and left the room.

To my astonishment, he kept his word, and I invited him over for dinner. We never sat down to eat. We spent the entire night exploring each other bodies. Late in the night I awoke to see him gazing soundlessly at me, his fingers coiling a whit strand of my hair about his forefinger. I grinned and snuggled closer, planting a kiss on his chest.

"Can't sleep?" I asked.

"Not when I'm around you."

I giggled and moved to straddle his hips. "Perhaps I can do something to help."

He rested his hands on the small of my back. "Perhaps, or you can run into the kitchen and make me a sandwich."

"What?" I cried.

"I haven't eaten in a long while, Marie. I need to recharge the battery if you know what I mean," he teased, working his hips in an upward motion. Squeals of laughter escaped my lips and I hit him lightly to stop his crude charade. I then tried to rise but he grabbed me and flipped me onto my back.

"I thought you were hungry."

"I got my second wind." He eased onto me slowly and leaving a trail of kissing in his wake.

* * *

 

I roused hours later astonishingly tired but greatly satisfied. Adjusting to more comfortable position in the crumpled sheets, I sought out my lover, and grinned at the alarming prospect of John filling the role.

"John?" I said when I found his space empty. Bolting to a sit, my heart swelling in my chest, I searched my bedroom. I heard a noise and got out of bed to inspect it. Walking out into the living room I saw him standing on the terrace. "John?" He turned. His eyes were heavy as if he had been thinking about something distressing. "Are you okay?"

Click.

The clinking sound of a lighter being opened took me by surprise and sent my eyes down to inspect his hands. There it was. His zippo, a painted shark's head on its side. The little tinker toy that never left his side through his days at the mansion. "Yeah," he replied, feigning a smile. Rotating, he propped his elbows onto the marble barrier.

I stepped onto the veranda and placed a hand on the upper portion of his back; he stiffened. I didn't say anything, only stood by his side. He resumed opening and closing the lighter. It had always annoyed me and everyone at the school. We all feared that one day he was going to burn the place down. Now, I knew different; this behavior of his could only mean that something was bothering him.

"It happened so quickly I didn't expect it." He said, staring down into the thriving public. "It happened on a day like this. School was out. It was the holidays, me and my friends would muck around till supper. One afternoon, I came across my friends roasting fire ants along a pathway. It wasn't so much as a discomfort in hands but a quickening, like when you're trying to strike a match. The flame sought me I didn't find it. It just latched itself onto me, I couldn't put out. I tried. Tommy got hurt. His parents blamed me, filed a lawsuit against my parents. Suddenly I was the freak of the neighborhood. Dad and mom couldn't deal —shit—"

"Is that how you came to America," I coaxed.

He nodded. "I shipped out to live with relatives here." He snorted; shrugging shoulders she knew had a mountain of weight on them. "They couldn't wait to get rid of me once they discovered I was a mutant. I got lost in the system, in and out of foster homes, before the Professor found me." He puffed out bitterly. "There was a time I forgot John was my real name."

"So, Pyro was born."

"You could say that. I made him up so I would know I was still alive...still here...not a defect to parents who discovered I was flawed."

With ever loving tenderness, I turned him and cupped his face. "You are not flawed," I whispered and took his mouth in a passionate kiss.

I wanted him to know that he was perfect to me...meant something...to me. Tears began to well underneath my lashes at the shocking knowledge that I was falling in love with John. I thought it was too soon; impossible. I went on two dates and slept with him. Surely it couldn't count for love. But feelings surfaced. Our past lives intertwined strangely; a twisted fate mired in anguish and rejection that left us scarred. I did nothing else but hold him up until he departed leaving me to digest what he had told me. I never asked why he decided to share his grief; I was only grateful. It was step in a right direction. He trusted me.

It was all I could want.

* * *

 

Months faded. The fall season began yet our relationship hardly simmered. It intensified, slowly, building to something genuine. John spent more nights at my place, sometimes a whole entire week. He hardly ever went home after work. He would sometimes pack an overnight bag and take refuge in my apartment. I had to admit his presence grew monotonous, then again on nights when the temperature dipped as November crept in, it was nice to have a warm body to snuggle next to.

"So have you decided?" I asked as I put on the finishing touches to the turkey. It was Thanksgiving and I had been working tirelessly in the kitchen all morning. I hoped my first attempt at making dinner would not be disastrous. John, on the other hand, was glued in front of the television, switching from the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade and the football game on ESPN. He hardly came to my aid, only added to the strain of work by asking me to toss him a beer or make him a sandwich.

"John?"

"Huh?" He looked at me then back at the TV.

"John!" I growled in aggravation, while opening a can of cranberry sauce.

"What? I'm watching the game."

"Have you decided about coming back to New York with me for Christmas?" His face sank into an abysmal scowl as he quietly sipped his beer. "Well?" I had asked him a few weeks ago and he had yet to give me an answer.

"Must I suffer their company," he scoffed.

"They're my friends and it's been a while since I've seen them."

"You lived there for almost three years," he snapped. "Don't you think you've got enough memorable moments to last a lifetime?"

"If you don't want to come, that's all you have to say. I'll go by myself." I barked out furiously, portioning out the mashed potatoes into a bowl and added a gob of butter on top.

"So what am I gonna do for Christmas."

"I don't know. Watch football or any other Sunday morning game." His lips squeezed into a bitter pucker and he made a face. He returned his eyes to the plasma screen. I started setting the table, muttering to myself about men when my phone rang. "Get the phone will you?"

"I'm watching the game." He grumbled.

"Oh for Christ's sakes, John." I bellowed." I have TIVO pause it and get the phone!"

"Alright," he snapped, pushing to his feet. "Who could be calling you anyway?"

"Your mother," I threw out.

"Funny," he said. "Hello?"

"Who the hell is this?"

"Logan. It's been a while," I heard John say and dropped a dish completely mortified. I surged out of the kitchen, my heart thundering like a dozen racehorses. I literally heard Logan bellowing on the other line.

"Pyro—John—?"

"It's for you," he said tossing the phone to me and dropping heavily into the sofa without a care in the world.

"Logan," I said jittery. "Hi. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Start talking kid cause you're not foolin' me."

"Huh? I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's was Pyro. I can sniff out that little shit a mile away. He's alive? How and what the hell is he doing at your place anyway?"

I felt John's eyes on me and sighed. "It's a long story."

"Clarified everything?" John asked the second I walked out of the bedroom.

"Nothing is ever simple." I answered.

I put the phone on the charger and went back to the kitchen to sweep up the mess. I was still getting over my conversation with Logan and ears had yet to stop ringing from all his screaming and bickering. By now the entire mansion would know I was sleeping and living with John. It was then Bobby tiptoed into my thoughts. What would he think about me now that I've slept with his former best friend? I didn't want to imagine it. Nor did I really care. Let him stew in the fact I was no longer available.

"You okay."

I glanced up to see John standing in the archway. "Yeah. I'm used to Logan and his hollering. I'm used to lots of things." I went to the trash can to dump the broken bits into the container.

"What about your friends finding out about us?"

I looked at him; his face was hard. Love for him overshadowed any fear and doubt that would arise because of my involvement with him. I went to him, throwing my arms about his neck. "Come with me," I said. "I want everyone to see and know about us."

"Really."

"Yes," I gently kissed his lips. "Really."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after the attack on Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect

**_Rogue's Point of View_ _:_**

_Click!_

I heard the signature flick of a lighter giving birth to a flame. The grind of metal against flint to awaken the fire he loved so dearly. The sound was foreign to me. It came so unexpectedly it jolted me out of my sleep. It had been months since I heard John play with the menacing instrument that preludes his manipulative control over fire.

_Click! Click!_

There it was again.

Eyes fluttering open I laid on my side and listened as my enigmatic pyromaniac tempted fate and the security of my household to revel in the gleam of a simple flame. I shuffled, restless, hugging the sheets closer to my naked body, somewhat chilled by his absence, but I wasn't bothered for I hadn't been sleeping deeply anyhow.

I was thinking, dreading, counting the minutes that turned to hours; counted the moment when John and I would depart to the airport and journey three thousand miles over land, mountain, and prairie to New England; awaiting our arrival, nestled on a vast stretch of land, a mansion and everyone who resided within the gilded residence.

I tried to hone my thoughts. Not allow them stray and meditate on the moment John and I would pass through the gates and greet hard eyes and down turned mouths. I didn't want to reflect on the melancholy hour, friends would portray me as a foe, a traitor to X-Men morals and cardinal laws.

_Thou shalt not sleep or fall in love with the enemy._

My burdens rolled out of me in a heavy sigh. I flipped onto my back and stared at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" he asked

"Can you?"

"You're worried aren't you?"

I rolled my head on the pillow to spy out John in the shadows; eerily, his crystal blue eyes crossed the spaced that divided us, and held mine with great intensity.

"No," I lied. I watched his mouth curl into a sexy sneer and saw the motions of his hand glide over the lighter squared away in his right hand.

_Click._

Instantly, a tiny flame flicked to life illuminating a well proportion face and prominent lips, sweet and sumptuous. Lips that had delivered endless amounts of pleasure earlier in the evening. Heat spread like a raging inferno across my body, a wealth of desire sent tingles down to my toes, and a crimson shade dimmed my cheeks.

"You need to learn how to lie better."

I narrowed my eyes warily. I hated how he treated me like an impetuous child. "Would you rather I tell you I'm terrified? That I'm afraid Logan would shred you to pieces."

He laughed. "I can handle the big bad Wolverine and the rest of those pansies hiding behind the Xavier's foolish notions of peace between mutants and humanity."

I grew cold, disliking his words.

Magneto's vicious ideals had apparently sunk deep into him and had taken root. I hoped to sway him. I wasn't expecting him to become an X-Man; however, I didn't want him returning to that madman's services if he ever chose to resurface. It made me wonder. If my powers were evolving, and John was growing in strength…what of Magneto. Bobby told me of the four doses of the cure he had received on Alcatraz. His mutant power would be monstrous now, earth shattering...

"Rogue."

"Huh?" I focused my eyes on my boyfriend and he arched a brow at me.

"Daydreaming again," he snorted, the right corner of his lip went up. "You should see a psychiatrist about that." His words grated and I glared at him. "You're gorgeous when you're angry."

Taken aback, I saw him rise from off the ground and close the distance in three slow strides. He sat down on the bed, his cobalt eyes penetrating, never veering from my own. He set the lighter aside on the nightstand and combed his fingers in my hair, delving through the knotted locks to take part of my platinum strands in between his thumb and forefinger.

"I love your hair," he whispered, sending shivers rocketing throughout me as he leaned close to plant a kiss on my lips.

* * *

 I awoke in the morning, content and safe in his arms, almost wishing we didn't have to leave yet we found ourselves flying about my apartment finalizing and stuffing last minute items into our suitcases. Nervous fears sped up my heart as we journeyed down to the cab we had ordered to ride to the airport. A Christmas breeze greeted us. It was chilly for California. Rare. I snuggled into my jacket, while tucking the heavy duty coat designer from Sax and Fifth Avenue under my arm. I wasn't naïve about New York weather. I knew an industrial garment would soon be needed.

"Why did you have to pack so much shit?" John grumbled, shoving my carry-on bag into the back seat of the cab as the driver loaded our suitcases into the truck. "I hope there is room for us."

"Some of them are loaded with gifts John, so be careful." I remarked and then said with a glittering smile. "Don't worry I put your name on all of them."

"Swell," he muttered. "Let's go."

We climbed into the car and arrived to a glorious traffic jam. It was a major overflow. Hordes of people were entering and vacating the airport. Single people, couples, families, flight attendants and pilots swarmed the area; hoping to arrive to their destination to celebrate the holidays with friends and loved ones.

"John, grab a trolley!" I screamed once we were abandoned to handle our luggage by the driver.

"Yes master," he hobbled, mimicking the strange servant of Dr. Frankenstein.

"Funny," I said and helped him place our bags on the rack before entering the massive airport. I was calm and collected through the hustle and bustle and altogether once we finally boarded the plane. It was when we took off did the shadows of doubt and fear curl in my stomach.

"Worried?"

I looked at John. He frowned, obviously the little flecks of fear in my eyes, were not to his liking. "A little." I admitted that much but he could see the truth and I lowered my eyes. "I'm not ashamed of you John. I know what we have and it is real. But I-I doubt…they'd understand."

"I don't care if they do as long as they all know you are mine."

He spoke in such determination that it frightened me yet I was glad to be claimed by someone who wouldn't let me go. And John was just the sort of man. I took his hand and held it. It was strong, rough with calluses; the mark of a man hardened by toil and prejudice. I gripped it and grinned when he squeezed mine in equal intensity.

"Sleep," he said looking me over, noting the dark circles beneath my eyes due the lack of sleep hours earlier. "It will be over soon." He then turned and stared out the window.

"That's my wish," I whispered softly so he wouldn't hear and adjusted in my seat to gain a comfortable position and rested my head on his shoulder. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about our impending visit with  _old_  friends.

The whole day was spent aboard the American Airline 747 before we touched ground in the airport. Maneuvering through a great crowd of travelers, we collected our bags and checked through customs. By then my nerves were rattled and my stomach was tight and a fretful sleep filled with turbulence and a lousy airline meal certainly didn't add to my spirit of Yuletides.

"You look like hell Marie," John teased, sipping a mocha cappuccino he managed to acquire at a Starbucks in the airport.

I wanted to strangle him and demanded why he didn't get me one, but merely shrugged and said I should gone ahead when he offered to watched the bags on his return. But I didn't want to stand in that never ending line. A hot shower and a bed were calling me and his incessant laughter was driving me up the wall.

I tugged on my heavy coat, glowering, I watched as he coolly walked out of the airport with the black leather jacket he wore into the blistering wind and falling snow. Onlookers stared horror stricken at the maniac wishing for death through freezing in New England weather.

I caught the eyes of some who pegged him a mutant and they moved silently down the sidewalk away from us. I gritted my teeth to stop them from chattering and stared at him, stunned by his manner. He was boldly declaring he was a mutant and didn't give the slightest care on what people thought. I marveled at his braveness and envied his power. Hugging my torso, I stood next to him, hoping to seep some of his good heat that pulsed in waves from his body.

"You're cold?" he asked his finger consistently heating the coffee in his hand as he looked me over.

My head dropped a notch. "You're kidding right," I chattered.

He grinned then heralded a cab. "Get in," he said opening the door for me then helped the driver load our bags in the trunk. Thank God for the creation of heaters for it was toasty inside and I found myself drifting off to sleep. A blast of cold air stirred me awake and I shot up straight in the seat. John apologized and instructed the driver on where to take us.

"Dat's quite a distance mac," the driver said.

"If you got the time," John said flashing the almighty green. "I got the collateral."

"You're speaking my language." The driver said jovially and pulled his cab out of park.

"Sleep Marie," he said draping his arm around me and pulling me against him. I let out a soft moan when I connected his warm body. Drowsy, I let the heat emanating off John's body loll me to sleep.

* * *

 Quarter past three beeped on my watch, gently, John shook me awake. Yawning, I stretched and gasped softly in exhilaration to the glittering lights adorning a massive iron gate and a huge house in the background. It took me a few seconds to figure out we had arrived at the mansion and my heart started thundering in my chest. I looked at the driver then to John. He was sullen and quiet.

"Want to ring the bell or should I?"

I held my breath. "I'll do it."

John pursed his lips. "Make it quick, I wanna sleep."

I stepped out of the cab. A cold wind slammed into me so hard I nearly fell into a nearby snow bank. Clamping my arms about me, I hurried with great speed to the voice box mounted on a brick wall that braced the metal gate. With a gloved finger, I pushed the button and waited. The freezing chill increased each minute I lingered outside and I began hopping up in down to get my blood circulating.

"Come on," I stammered and pressed the button three more times.

"Who in the blue fuck—it's three in the goddamn morning—fuckin' house better be under attack."

I giggled. I could only guess who that was. "Logan it's me—Rogue—open the gate."

"Rogue," he said in total surprise.

"Yeah, can you open up I'm freezing?"

"Jesus, kid, we weren't expecting yah till mornin'."

"I took an early flight. Open up," I literally screamed into the speaker. I didn't mean to but I was freezing to death.

"Sure." There was humor in his voice, but I knew it would dissipate the second his eyes laid on a certain someone I had brought home with me. Racing back to the cab I jumped in and snuggled next to my fire wielding boyfriend.

"Are we good?" John asked.

"Yes."

The black gate craned and swayed open and the cab drove inside and circled the brick round-a-bout to park in front of a massive four story mansion. "Nice place," the cab driver commented after he let us know how much his services had rendered.

"Thanks," John muttered, dishing out the fee. "It ain't mine."

"Visiting friends."

"No." He ducked out of the cab and slammed the door. He knocked on the trunk and the driver released it.

"He's not in the Christmas spirit is he miss?"

I shook my head and exhaled. "No."

When the driver finished flipping through the cash and a generous tip he got out the cab and went to aid John with the bags. Heaviness settled within me when I was left alone in the car. I entwined my fingers, shaking, doubt and fear coursing through my veins. It was a mistake to come here. I realized that now. John's mood had become ever more distant, chilling like Bobby's touch. Cringing, I set my eyes to the house, and glazed over the beautiful decorations that added to spirit of the season. A porch light came to life and the front doors open.

Wide eyes landed on Logan decked out in his traditional suit of jeans, white tank shirt and his tattered brown robe that had seen better day. Emotions swept me out the car and up the steps to greet the man who was more than a friend to me.

"Kid," he said swinging me into a huge bear hug.

"Logan." I smiled and pecked his cheek with a kiss.

"It's been forever." I felt him go rigid and knew he weeded out the two men depositing the bags on the steps; one sniff informed him that a traitor lurked in his presence.

"You actually brought him home! I know you're screwing the guy but—Jesus Rogue!"

"Logan, please." Shocked by his words and stared into his eyes and made a silent plea for him to be nice to the man I loved. Unwillingly, he grunted; a sign or promise he would be nice. It wouldn't be permanent. Logan never played the nice guy for too long. It never suited him nor did he try.

He moved past me his heavy boots pounding down the marble steps. I saw John's eyes trail to reach the towering six foot three mutant. He straightened to his full height, unafraid, ready for any assault. By then the driver had cleared the driveway and vanished in the waning night. I held my breath, expecting some sort of hard deliberation from Logan. Some verbal exercising his disapproval of John and our relationship. Amazingly he held his peace.

"Welcome home," Logan said in a gruff voice and bent down to take a bag.

"Yeah," John squeezed out and fixed his eyes on me.

I skipped down the steps and put a hand on John's shoulder. "Hey," I said. "Are you okay?" His tension eased only slightly at my touch.

"You want to stay here with these fucking people?" he sneered.

"John," I sighed. "They're my friends." I placed both my hands on the side of his face and looked him squared in the eyes. "And your friends."

"They're no friends of mine." He hissed.

The anger in his voice should have shocked me but I was only saddened by the fact that these three weeks would not be all to the good. I watched him grab a couple bags and march up the staircase and I hesitantly walked into the mansion.

Sighing, I took the remaindering bags inside and filed silently across the foyer. The mansion was the same. It smelled of polished oak and fresh flowers blowing in from the garden. I felt a strange sense of home and well-being as I followed John while he trailed Logan up the winding stairs. I wondered what he felt. What images crossed his brain while moving through the household of his school years.

"This is you," Logan said above an audible growl, putting his hand flat on the door of a bedroom, and pushing it open.

John charged in first and dropped our bags. Flicking on the lights, he surveyed our new surroundings and let out a hard grunt when he saw two single beds before him. "What the fuck is this shit?" he said gesturing his head to the beds.

I widened my eyes then fanned them on Logan. His expression was blank though his eyes betrayed the thoughts dancing in his brain. I shook my head. It was too late for him to try to protect my honor. "It's all we have left," remarked Logan. "The school is filled to the max, beside I wasn't expecting you bub?"

"I wasn't anxious to be here."

"They why don't you leave."

John stood firm like a soldier. His eyes were deadly. "Maybe I'll—"

"Guys please," I interjected in a loud angry voice. I was in no mood for this macho trip. "Logan, thanks its fine."

"Yeah," John said, glaring at Logan. "Besides we can always push the  _beds_  together." I saw the way Logan's eyes shot wide from the way John pronounced the words beds. Grinning deviously, he turned and stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door close.

I heard Logan ease out a growl and shook my head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for him," he barked. "It's too convenient for the little dick."

"Logan," I said tears stinging my eyes. "You promised."

"Yeah." He grounded out before exiting the room.

* * *

 I stood alone; slowly circling the room. I sank onto the bed, and tried to push the rest of what was to come in the morning out from my head. Ten minutes had passed and John didn't reappear. If I didn't know better he was probably planning his escape. Hiking up the window and scrambling down the wall as we speak.

Edgy from the long travel and the uncomfortable run in with Logan I stripped out of my clothes and started to rummage through our suitcases for something to sleep in. I found one of John's grey shirts and slipped into it. I felt gritty, yet didn't care. I was dying for sleep.

I turned and set to work on correcting our current sleeping arrangements. I unplugged the lamp and placed it on the desk. I then cleared the nightstand off the ground with ease and set it to the far side of the room next to the closet. It surprised me how easily I lifted the sturdy oak furniture, which should have been heavy but wasn't. Next, I pushed the single beds together and then spread a quilt over the top. I made up the bed with a sheet, fluffed the pillows and finally eased onto the mattress, pulling another blanket on top of me. I turned out the overhead light.

It was cold and lonesome without John. I yearned to feel his heat against me and his arms folded about my waist. I heard the door open and swallowed. I heard movement. He cursed as he stubbed his toe on something—probably the nightstand by the closet—and I stifled a giggle. I then felt the box spring creak and shake as he sat down on the bed. The blanket rose and I felt a thigh stretch against my leg and an arm close about my waist. I relaxed and snuggled into him. It was then sleep finally claimed me, and I dozed into a deep slumber.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after the attack on Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect.

**_Pyro's Point of View:_ **

An itch to leave chaffed madly like a rash. Stirred awake, restless, I stretched my aching muscles and stared up at the ceiling. It took me a millisecond to process where I was as I regarded the rich stained wood of Oak. The smell of clean polish chocked me in a way the made me feel as if I was drowning. I shuffled in the sheets but encountered a figure nestling close to my side. I strained my head to right to see Marie slumbering peacefully.

I smiled.

At least one of us was getting a good night's rest. Moving close to her, I tucked a white strand of hair behind her ears. She sighed, pushing her face against my fingers, before snuggling into the plush pillow. My smile grew more pronounced. She looked so peaceful, so angelic, a taste of heaven after years of hell. I felt a tightening in my chest and flopped onto my back. It was a sensation I didn't recognize. I was all too familiar with hate and rage; this emotion was something different entirely and it tore through me like a raging inferno. Surfacing, stirring, it was far too difficult for me to classify.

A haggard breath seeped from my lips. Pupils strained to take in objects projected by the intense light streaming through the window. Looking at the nightstand, I gazed at the clock; the time blared in bold red digits. Quarter past eleven yet the mansion lay in silent tranquility. Hardly a footstep, a voice, trickled passed our door. I forgot mornings leading to Christmas; the intense quiet that was sometimes nerve racking, the joy of sleeping an extra two three hours before rising. Breakfast was the high point of the morning with hot cakes piling the plates, and sausage links and steaming hot chocolate.

Images of leisure, I purposely blocked them out because they failed to aid a cause that died on the outskirts of a prison facility. There was no true reason to feel when you're beaten by pain and hate daily. Feelings bruised and tortured the soul weakened a man. I crippled what was left of my frail humanity to better serve a one who envisioned a greater world, however, dreams without a leader died swiftly.

Eyes glued to the ceiling I strived to take in the whole situation, which up to this moment was still hard to comprehend. I couldn't believe I was back in the mansion; the mere idea of living under X-Men rules and regulation curdled my stomach. I came close to shaking Rogue awake a half hour after she had fallen asleep and tell her we were going to a hotel. I didn't want to suffer the indignity, the looks that branded me a Judas, and the malice glittering in various eyes.

I wanted out and fast.

Rogue stirred. She kicked actually, her painted little toes flicking out against my leg in frustration. I chuckled and watched her dive beneath the quilt as the sun touched her face. One thing was clear as I stared at her sweet façade; I would stay for her...for as long as my pride could stand. No other reason to remain in this luxurious penitentiary seemed sufficient. I was doing this for Rogue. I heard a breathless sigh and saw a brown eye peering up at me from under the quilt. Inching close, I grinned and placed a hand on Rogue's shoulder and rubbed her gently.

"Hey."

"Hmm," she moaned and blinked, her nose popping out.

"Sleep well?"

"Hmm."

"Hungry?"

She emerged, yawning, arching like a cat as she stretched. "Starved." Curling onto her side she stared up at me with those dark eyes and grinned. She favored a six year old for a second with her cheeks flustered and hair muddled by sleep.

"Indulge yourself in a hot shower. I'll see if I can scrounge up some food for us." I ripped the quilt off my torso and jumped to my feet, prancing in placed as I earnestly pumped blood through my veins.

"Are you sure you don't want me to look about breakfast?" I cast a look over my shoulder, contacting large brown eyes, wide with fear and unknowing certainty. Ignoring the pull in my chin, I grinned sheepishly; leaning close I joking pecked her on the nose.

"I got it. You freshen up."

"Okay," Rogue replies, twining her fingers in the cotton material, following John to the door. "John."

I spun on my heels, arching a brow. "Yeah?"

"English muffins instead of bread okay?"

I merely nodded and stepped out into the hallway and strolled by closed doors. Whispers abound from a bedroom nearby, some girls were laughing. About what I didn't know nor did I care; they sounded like Jubilee and Kitty and I rolled my eyes, annoyed by the thought of motor mouth and her mousy friend. I turned right. Up ahead, light streaming through a window bounced off the mahogany wall, enhancing the color and texture of the stained wood. I remembered where the kitchen was located as I descended the stairs. I could find it with my eyes close. This house, its design and structure, was still tattooed in my memory, much to my displeasure. Truthfully, I didn't want to recall the heydays of this institute of learning. I was never a good student and I always got into a heap of trouble. The Professor always seemed to want to bottle my spirit, my enthusiasm. Transform me into a mild mannered citizen by day and X-Men by night and the mere idea of waking up to a six by four feet cubicle office appalled me. I guess that's why I chose the path less traveled.

Coincidently, I think it was expected of me. Destruction was my power. An ill-temper was my nature. It would be difficult for me to swallow a simple, quiet, life. Yet I was experiencing such a development in my relationship with Rogue and it had been nice till now. Arrival in this mansion had left an odious taste in my mouth. I knew it was just a matter a time before every soul in this house would poison her against me. The smell of coffee hit me and I frowned. Someone else was seizing the opportunity of this quiet morning. Logan! Great, his presence was all I truly needed today. Grinding my teeth, I entered the kitchen, determined not to quarrel with the feral man. I was determined not to burn anything.

"Didn't think you'd still be here bub?" Logan grumbled. He held two cups of coffee in hand, which only led to the conclusion he had somehow manage to smuggle a woman into the mansion. I shook my head. It seemed like without the Professor in attendance, moral decency of this house was going down the toilette.

"Rogue wouldn't have it any other way," I said coldly, challenging the dark man's harsh demeanor, and remaining undeterred in my agenda not to quarrel with him. Opening the fridge I took out eggs, bacon, and sausage. I bent down and pulled out a three skillets and placed them on the electric stove to heat. Adding vegetable oil, I waited three seconds then dished out the breakfast items. I grinned with delight as I watched the food sizzle and cook.

"Just what's your relationship with her?" he demanding, standing right behind the annoying little flame thrower.

"As you saw it," I remarked scrambling the eggs and putting it onto two plates.

"Look bub, it would better for every one if you'd just disappear in the next half hour."

I spun around, glaring. "You'd like that but I'm not going anywhere, least not without Marie."

He hovered, furious, eyes black as coals. "She will never be yours to have," he hissed. "Plus I don't like the fact that you're with her."

"She likes it."

Ferocious hands, large, melded with adamantium seized my grey shirt slammed me into the cupboard. A familiar heat skated along my finger tips as the essence of fire swam in my veins. So much for temperance and the promise not to have an all out war with anyone residing in this household. A thunderous burst of heat and flames sends Wolverine scaling over the island and crashing into nearby table and chairs. The smell of burnt flesh and charred clothing sets off the fire alarm in a matter of seconds. Rivulets of water cascade into the kitchen.

I stood over him, my eyes glittering in rage. "Don't think I'm going to stand and take your shit Logan." He looked at me, pupils large in wonder and confusion. His vision falls to my hands still flickering despite the torrent flooding the kitchen. I knew he was searching for my Zippo and was probably stunned to see I no longer required the lighter to offset my powers.

"You fucking little shit," Logan sneered, pouncing to his feet, claws sliding cleanly out of his flesh. A lopsided grin peeled my lips into a devious smile. I stood, ready and waiting, wondering if I could potentially melt that fucking metal off his bones.

"Logan! What the  _hell_  is going on? The whole house is underwater! John?"

We turned precisely at the same time to view Ororo Munroe dripping in her white silk nightgown. Her voluptuous body pressing against the wet material, making her quiet appealing. I saw the look that on Wolverine's face and became curious. Was there something going on between the good Wind Rider and the Wolf?

"John?" It was all she could say, her mouth fell open, and her complexion grew pale, even for her.

"Yeah," I grunted. "I'm alive."

It took her less than a minute to figure out what was going on as she looked from Logan to me. She frowned and turned to leave the kitchen, apparently, to find the water pump and shut it off.

"This ain't over bub." Logan pointed his at me and headed in the direction Miss Munroe had gone. I kicked a broken chair leg aside, once alone, ticked this drama had to come down. I didn't want to fight Logan. Had no intention, but the scumbag had it coming. It was a long time anyone had ever grab me like that. Something snapped in my head. Crossing the kitchen floor, I eyed breakfast, a delightful treat for Marie ruined.

"I shouldn't have come—" I soured and wiped water droplets out of my eyes the instant to the sprinklers ceased.

"John?"

Slowly, I rotated by body to face the voice coming from the entrance to the kitchen. I felt the anger within dissipate at the sight of Marie. I went to her and pulled her into my arms, somehow needing to hold her.

"What happened?"

I tilted my head back as if judging the question then looked into her eyes. "I can give you two guesses but you're only gonna needed one."

* * *

 Amazing what living in a mansion filled with mutants could produce. For starters clean-up was a breeze. There was a student with an uncanny ability to absorb and condense water molecules into gaseous vapors. Jon was another kid with a kinetic link with electrical currents. It took him two days to restore all systems in the house from a simple radio to the most sophisticated equipment. I would have apologized, if I were given the chance, yet why should I? The undomesticated amnesiac assaulted me first. What was I to do? Needless to say, I doubt I would receive any understanding and forgiveness. Four days after the afternoon shower inside the household, Marie and I were swarmed with students new and old and as I predicted the eyes were very unfriendly.

"Sorry John," Kitty said, an annoyed look on her face, as she hustled me out of our room.  _Our room_! "Girl talk."

"Start talking!" I heard Jubilee's voice scream through the wood door. I started walking away, ever mindful of the harsh words seeping through the wall. I shook my head. These guys actually believed I couldn't hear them when I was several feet away. I heard Marie as plain as day; she was on the defensive and I smiled. Nice to know there was one person in this house who was sticking up for me. I picked my way through house, walked through a maze of rooms and study areas. Man! I sincerely had forgotten how large this place was.

I escaped into the backyard and walked across the manicured, lawn, breathing the fresh scent of cut grass and flowers. I rounded the back portion of the house and spotted three head stones. The largest of the three bore the Professor's impression. I felt a pull in my chest, a fleeting guilt, and shame. Recalling my callus statement that I would have gotten rid of the Professor if I had been given the chance, I shuddered. I didn't know if I meant it at the time. I guess I was trying to impress Magneto. Boy that was a slap in my face. The fire sitting on at the foot of his head stone was dying and sank onto the grass. I stretched out my hand; the red and yellow flames licked my fingertips.

"Don't touch it! Get away from there!"

I recognized the voice that cut into me and darkened as I flash of memory hit my thoughts. Fist squeezed tight I rose. "Drake," I said in a low murmur.

"Pyro." He spoke my name in cold hate; I could feel it emanating from his mouth. "Alive and well."

"Not dead enough for you," I joked and he scowled.

"No."

"Sorry to disappoint," I clucked my tongue as we engaged each other in a visual stand off.

"I heard you're here with Rogue. I didn't want to think it was possible till I saw you out here," he glowered. "You got a lot of nerve being here Allerdyce."

"Did you think I want to come back?" I cried. "I'm here because Marie insisted, nothing else."

Bobby cocked his head to the side and arched an eyebrow. "Marie?"

I took this opportunity to strike where I knew it would do the most damage. "Oh right," I grinned, sheer mockery curving my lips. "Rouge never did tell you her real name now did she?" The alteration in his facial features pronounced I was cutting into him deeply. I considered it payback for that nasty stunt on Alcatraz as well as other things. "Marie and I have developed a thing, and dear I say, she's has skills I dare not think possible." The blood drained from Drake's face and my smile enlarged. Assuming our conversation had come to an end, I headed towards the house.

"Enjoy it while you can," he shouted. "You're just a distraction as far as I'm concerned. Sooner or later you're true colors will shine."

"You think she'll go back to you."

"It's happened before," Bobby smirked.

I didn't know what mad consciousness split inside my head but I was consumed in a pillar of fire in a matter of seconds. Flames encased me in a rapturous cocoon, singeing my sweater, jacket and pants. Burnt pieces fell and scorched the grass. I must have been an unholy sight because I saw Bobby backing away in fear. The inferno didn't last long enough to cause major damage to rest of my clothes. "Stay away from her," I warned. "You may have beaten me once but you won't be so lucky next time." I walked fast, cleared the field and was in the house in a matter of seconds. Heart pounding I swept up the steps and charged down the hall.

"...so you and John are you together...you...Bobby...not gonna make...try..." I nearly kicked the door off the hinges when I heard that mousy little mutant, Kitty, mention the very idea of Marie reuniting with ice dick.

"Get out!" I bellowed, causing all three of them to jump and scatter. I whirled to glare at Marie. "Start packing, we're outta here."

"What happened to your clothes?"

"Don't worry about it," I grumbled, stalking to closet to throw the doors open. Grabbing at shirts, coats and jeans, I threw them onto the bed. I turned to see Marie standing in front of me, arms folded. "Don't just stand there," I headed to the armoire and plucked out undergarments clean out the oak furniture.

"I must admit this is far longer than I expected you to last," she said.

"You're just lucky I didn't wake you the night we arrived. I was ready to leave this fucking place."

She came to me, brown eyes furrowed in a question, worry sparkling in their depths. "What happened John?"

I released a haggard grunt. "I had a run in with your ex!"

"Bobby," she cried. "What did he want?"

His very name spoken on her lips was enough to induce my pent up frustration. "To tell me to stay away from you," I spat. "Just like Logan."

"Logan, what happened with Logan?"

I whirled around, tossing, a bag onto the bed. "I don't want to talk about it!" I slammed drawers closed and stormed into the bathroom. "I figured this was a bad fucking idea." I came out to see her sitting on the bed, hands folded in her lap. "We should've never come here. We could have had our own Christmas back in San Francisco."

"It meant so much to me to see my friends," she said. "Everyone thought I was avoiding them because I had taken the Cure and didn't think I was still welcomed. I was so relieved when Logan asked me to come home for the holidays."

"Really," I twisted my mouth in contempt, Bobby's words emerging in the back of my head, causing my blood to boil. "Or could it be you just wanted to be close to Bobby again." I saw I had hurt her but her shocked expression suddenly turned into a scorching gaze as she shot up to her feet.

She crossed to the desk, a hand on her temple, shaking. "What is it going to take for you believe Bobby and I are over?"

"Are you?" I attacked.

She flashed me an angry look. "Don't start that again John!" She softened and walked to me, cupping my face in her hands. "When are you going to trust in us?"

"Marie—"

"John—I—love—you."

I was at a lost for words. I literally felt my heart skip a beat, a strange hot and cold sensation washing me over, as though a soft wind would knock me down. No one had ever aspired to love to me; my own mother and father abandoned the parental duty to love me despite circumstances. How was I to truly respond to such a sentiment of sincere affection? I looked into her face; happiness curved her beautiful, exquisite, features.

Opening my mouth, I tried to give the reply she desperately wanted. Instead, I held her close and kissed her forehead, my heart hammering. I felt her arms glide up back, over my burned sweater. I drew back and yanked the charred materials off my body. I didn't want her touching me when I was like this. A kiss planted on my chest took me by surprise. I lowered my eyes; the look in her chocolate opals was heady, hard to miss. I picked her up and carried her back to the bed and laid her down gently, kissing her slow, plucking at her dark green camisole.

"John," she moaned as I left a trail of moist kisses down the side of her face and neck.

"Yeah," I murmured.

"Lock the door."

I grinned and rose to turn the latch.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after the attack on Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect.

Chapter VI

_**Rogue's POV:** _

_Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock..._

Beloved Christmas classics and songs of chestnuts roasting on open fires hardly inspired any bouts of holiday cheer within the opulent mansion. It merely grated on tender nerves and increased tensions and poured salt on old wounds. I must admit, I was stunned by the borderline peace that seemed to consume the household, particularly after a hostile encounter in the kitchen that ended in a monsoon. By now, everyone within residence was aware of a traitor's return. I wasn't disheartened, but upset. Everyone had a critical opinion; although few words were uttered, their actions spoke loudest. Impassive eyes, tight lips and wayward expressions, greeted either John or me each morning, but we weren't truly bothered.

John made it his mission to keep to himself and I honestly enjoyed his company. I felt a crimson heat touch my cheeks in thought of John, not the bitter angry mutant that crashed into our bedroom a few days ago, and scaring my friends away. But a sensitive, tortured soul, only closed doors could reveal. Trouble was his inability to fluently express emotions that tossed in his heavenly eyes. In my heart, I knew by his subtle touches, his loving caresses, he wanted to whisper three words I had granted him. But his silence chilled me more than his touch.

I sighed and picked through precious trappings to be borne on the Christmas tree Logan had plucked straight out of the forest. Trimmed and smelling vibrantly of pine, I handed an ornament to Ororo decked on the upper quadrant of the ladder. She flashed me a small smile then shifted to place the crystal ornament on a branch. Unlike everyone else in the mansion, she had not opened her mouth to voice an opinion on John's reappearance. In fact, she hadn't said but a few words to me.

This morning just as I was about to take some breakfast upstairs for me and John to share, she asked if I would like to help decorate the tree. She knew it was a favorite pastime of mine even before I had arrived at the mansion. I could recall days at home where mom and I would spend the whole day seeing to the perfection of a tree we had acquired off the lot. I remembered the way the tree came to life, its beauty. It always brought warm feelings to my heart.

"Hand me some tinsel will you Rogue?" Ororo asked.

The sound of my name jolted me out of reminiscence and I looked at her. "Marie," I corrected picking up a package of silvery streamers.

"What?"

"Marie, Ms. Munroe, my name is Marie."

"I know," she let out a small laugh. "I thought Rogue was what you preferred seeing how—"

"Not anymore," I exhaled, opening another box of crystal ornaments.

"Not since—"

My eyes reached her somber gaze. "Not since I took the cure," I finished for her.

"I wasn't condemning Rogue," she said.

I lowered my eyes. "I know—it's just—"

"R—Marie—taking the cure was you're decision."

"Even if it was the coward's way out."

Ororo swallowed, haunted by her angry tirade the moment Hank revealed to her and the Professor about the cure. "I didn't mean—or—maybe I did—I don't know—" She lowered her head. "I don't know anything anymore."

"Miss Munroe—" I went to her, thrown off by her sudden sense of a helplessness, and confusion. I have never I seen her like this. She was always strong-willed, together, and in control. Sometimes I teased her about it, but today, there was nothing to laugh about.

She shook her head. "Please," she said with a hapless laugh. "Call me Ororo after all, you're no longer my student.

"Alright," I grinned. "Let's try to push on forward. We shouldn't let what happened eighteen months ago stop us from living."

"I agree." She wiped a tear from underneath her eyelid and her smile grew pronounced.

"So," I said after a moment. "What's been going on here since I've been gone?"

"You tell me?" she arched a brow.

"What do you mean?"

"John," Ororo said without the slightest hesitation.

I blushed madly, dropping my head, platinum locks brushed against my ruddy cheeks. I really didn't know what to say and started to untwine a string of lights. "We—sort of—just—happened. It wasn't intentional. Neither was I trying to hurt anyone."

"Bobby doesn't see it that way."

I grimaced. Ororo had gone straight for the throat. "Bobby is the least of my concerns," I said flatly, handing her the end of the string of lights I was able to untangle.

"The two of you did date for almost three years," Ororo said.

"And your point is?" I barked arms folded.

The white haired mutant let out a deep breath and came down the ladder. Her blue eyes were so rich with concern that it laid siege to my conscience. I straightened, but felt no guilt rise inside of me, only annoyance. "Aren't you at least concerned for Bobby's feelings? He's been moping around the house since you arrived and you being here with John has not made things easier."

"I wish I could care Ororo, but he didn't, especially when I told him I had doubts."

She blinked, drawing back stunned. "Doubts."

"Yeah," I muttered. "Doubts about taking the cure, which to my surprise Bobby was more than thrilled I had gotten rid of my mutation. He felt it was for the best, but not for us—it was  _best_  for him." Hot tears blistered the corners of my eyes, stunned, I lifted my face heavenward.

"Marie—"

"Everything alright in here?"

"Yes Logan," Ororo thrown off by Logan's appearance, reclaimed her position on the ladder. "We can light the tree soon."

I turned to see Logan standing in the doorway, his prowess dominating the room. I resumed my task of opening the boxes. Heavy footsteps echoed in the study, I pretended not to acknowledge him. I was angry at him for breaking his promise. He swore to keep his feelings towards John to himself. Instead, he lashed out in pure, Wolverine mode.

"Hey kid," I heard his voice in my ears and slammed the box down. Twirling on my toes, I vacated the room; I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction in knowing our friendship was still an open door policy, especially after he turned his rage on John.

"What the hell was that all about?" He snorted gruffly, scratching his overgrown side burns.

"After what happened in the kitchen, she's still a little upset that you attacked her boyfriend." Ororo climbed down the ladder and picked up the essential element and focus of the tree, a dulcet angel shrouded in paper to protect the porcelain features of the figurine.

"Please don't speak of him as her boyfriend," Logan growled. "Its bad enough the little dick is here."

"Mercy what a tongue," Ororo admonished.

"Never bothered you before," he grinned.

She let out a haggard breath and tried to hide the heat tingeing her eyes and the glow on her face as she scampered back up the ladder. She nearly shrieked when she felt his hand slide up her right leg to cup and squeeze her rear. She fell off the ladder and landed safe in his strong awaiting arms.

"Careful, I wouldn't want you to bruise that rear I love so much," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Logan," she pressed her hands palm flat against his chest as his arms enfolding her. "Someone will see us?"

"Let them see," he murmured, taking her mouth in a fierce kiss.

I didn't know which was a major shock? Seeing Logan and Storm locking lips or his crass statement veered towards my fire breeder. I could guess he would eventually turn to the weather goddess now that Jean was no longer in his line of vision. I suppose a part of me could be a little jealous of her and the other woman laid to rest on the school property. But I wasn't the slightest bit rankled by the scene. I was delighted they had found each other. Ororo was the sort of woman that would appease Logan's feral nature and he in turn would rouse her wild side. Hell! Opposites did always attract like the polar force of a magnet. Leaving them to the seclusion of the study, I found myself wandering the mansion, my thoughts a blur. Ororo's comments thundered in my brain, narrowly giving me a headache. Her defense of Bobby made my insides twist.

 _Mope_.

True, I had spotted Bobby's cold façade in the far corners of the house, but a somber glum did not contuse the line of his face. Untrained eyes might have mistaken his gaze for sadness, but what I saw was hatred. He hated me. He hated John, but most of all, he hated the mere idea of us. It was just his bad luck for he was going to have to bear his odium alone. What astounded me were the tears that manifested during my conversation with Ororo? I couldn't imagine after all this time was bitter about my break with him. I wasn't paying attention and collided into someone coming in the opposite direction. Cold hands touched my bare arms. It was like being hit with ice water and my eyes surge upward.

Bobby!

I nearly scrambled out of his touch to place a good yard between us. We stared at each other for a second. It was one of those awkward moments in life no one would want to endure, the silence, the tension, and obvious unresolved issues.

"Bobby." With a curt nod, I shifted to the right and proceeded on my endless wandering through the mansion. Instead, a furious hold gripped the upper length of my arm, and I was swung around. "Hey," I shrieked.

"We need to talk," he said in a low hum as he half dragged me into a private study and threw me inside.

"Well," I huffed, rubbing my arm. "I can finally add gumption and aggression to your DNA." He didn't turn to face me but remained pressed against the door as if barricading it. "Bobby, let me out."

"H—w—why?"

I cocked my head to right, unsure I had heard him. "What?"

"Why Marie," he moved slowly, rotating his body to reveal the bitter anguish in his eyes. "Why him?"

Pursing my lips into a scornful twist, I folded my arms across my chest. I figured this conversation was long over due. "Why not him? Why not John?"

"You could have done a tad better," he snubbed.

"After you Bobby," I straightened. "I don't think I can do worse."

Pained flickered in his eyes and he turned his face from mine. "You still haven't forgiven me."

"Why should I?"

He crossed the room in two strides. "Marie, I was wrong for what I said. It was a slip of the tongue."

"Really," I looked at him with emotionless eyes. "You sounded extremely sincere."

"You take things out of proportion that was always your problem," he snapped.

"I take things!" I exploded. "All you did was  _take_  in that horrid relationship of ours and you gave me nothing." I moved to flee, but he caught my wrist, and pulled me roughly to him.

"I gave you my heart," he bellowed, "yet you stomped on it when you arrived here with  _him_!"

"Feelings mutual," I hissed. "I told you I was scared, regretted my decision. I felt like a murdered half myself and what did you tell me." I put two fingers on my chin as if I were seeking the response. "Oh, yes, it was for the _best_! And it was for the best—it gave me the chance to see what a spineless asshole you are!"

"I made a mistake," he lowered his head, shaking.

"Don't I know it!"

Electric blue eyes reached my face and I shivered. Not in delight, but in disgust. Bobby's touch was so counter to John's warmth and exuberance that it repulsed me. "Can't we just give it another try?"

"Not on your life."

His countenance darkened and his hand tightened with a slight artic chill that was paralyzing. I looked down at his hand. It was ice blue. "Bobby, let me go."

He made not effort to release me. His hand held my wrist like a frozen manacle that was slowly inching its deathly coldness up the length of my arm. I could feel my blood literally begin to freeze and my heart strain in great exertion. I felt as if he was sucking the warmth and life out of me. My eyes shot wide. Was he trying to kill me?

"Bobby! Let go of me!"

My plea turned to anger and in an outburst of rage, I pushed at him with my free hand. He surged into the air, flying back five feet, and crashed into the wall. I stood there, stunned as he struggled to rise, but blanked out and crashed back on the floor. I stared at my hand as if it were a foreign object then looked at my wrist. It was gradually taking color but there was a freezer burn from where Bobby's hand was brutally ripped from mine. I panicked and raced out of the study. What happened in there and where did this sudden rush of strength come from? I read in a biology book that in certain dire situations, adrenaline enabled a person to have the strength of ten men.

I paused and glanced back at the private study at the end of the hall. I shuddered and high tailed it to my bedroom. I slammed the door shut and stripped out of my clothes. Diving under a torrential hot shower, I scrubbed my wrist and body clean, then sat down on the hard floor and allowed the waters rush over me. I couldn't describe my emotions which were now in a whirlwind and tears intermingled with the raging water. I didn't want to believe they were being shed for Bobby. I lifted my face and allowed the gushing water to wash them off my face.

I must have stayed there for an hour, for when I finally crawled out, it was fifteen past one. I dried and dressed in a long sleeve blouse and jeans, desperate to cover the welt on my wrist that turning red with a tinge of purple. If John saw it, he would immediately put two and two together, and all hell would break loose in the mansion. Not that I wouldn't mind watching John beat the shit out of Bobby; the guy tried to freeze me to death. Was he demented? He had clearly gone over the edge. Nevertheless, this was the holidays and I didn't want to ruin anyone's Christmas. I had to do any and everything to keep John's mind occupied and I had to keep him from seeing the bruise on my wrist. It wouldn't be easy. John liked it when I slept naked or close to it.

As I stood in the middle of our room, trying to conjure a way to avoid a catastrophe, I didn't hear the door open and close. A hand slipped to my front and cradled my belly, soft lips kissed my neck. I yelped and shot into the air.

"Hey," John said, holding his hands in air. "It's me."

"John," I ripped my fingers through my hair. "Sorry."

"Not exactly the greeting I was expecting," he came towards me and wrapped his arms about me. "I was hoping for a little bit of this." He smothered me in a kiss that left me in a breathless and flustered. I held him close and squeezed him. Soaking in his precious heat, I felt my body come to life.

"Oh," I sighed. "John." I felt comfort in his arms and safety I could never dream possible. How was it I could feel such assurance with a man, who up till a year ago and half ago, fought side by side with Magneto?

"Miss me?" he murmured in my ears.

"Yes," I said drawing back to gaze into his brilliant eyes, so different from Bobby's, so filled with vitality. "What's that?" I asked noticing several bags sitting in front of the door.

He grinned and went to collect them and placed them on the desk. "Music," he said flashing a CD, "wine, lobster for tonight and a little something for me later on." He flashed a red negligee and I turned bright as a beet. My exhilaration died when I thought about my bruise and it didn't help that it was throbbing painfully.

I watched John finger the sexy undergarment and flash me an alluring look. "Maybe," he stalked to me, threading the item through his hand. "You could model it for me now Marie, boost a guy's expectations."

"Now," I said nervously.

"Yeah," he said. He laid it on the bed then held out his hand. I closed my eyes and went to him, careful to keep my wrist out of his line of vision. He placed both hands on my hips, kissing me thoroughly as he began to meticulously unbutton my jeans. Dropping to his knees, he pulled it slowly down and bid me to step of it. He kissed the back of my knee and smiled up at me. He rose to his feet and lifted my arms. I flinched when his hand brushed my bruise. Slipping his fingers underneath the soft material, he plucked my blouse off and tossed it aside. I stood in nothing more than my underwear, but I didn't feel vulnerable. I was excited, my pulse was hammering. I watched him watching me, saw the rush of sexual awareness flood his pupils. John always liked to look before he touched and oftentimes it drove me crazy in anticipation.

His eyes moved downward then rested on my face. He walked to me and I monitored every step he took. He circled behind and drew me against him, nuzzling my hair. "Well," his breath hot on my skin. "Perhaps we don't need this after all." He picked up the red negligee and allowed it to slip through his hand and fall to the floor.

I giggled. Turning in his arms, I cupped his face, and kissed him. When he took my wrist in his hands, it was there I had clearly forgotten to keep my bruise hidden and let out a gasp in pain.

"What's this," he demanded, lowering my right arm to inspect my wrist.

Uh, nothing," I replied, retrieving my hand from his hold.

"Marie—"

"I had a little accident while making breakfast this morning." I saw flecks of gold glimmer in his eyes. I looked away. I was never a good liar and I knew John was reading into me.

"He touched you?"

"I took care of it." I said afraid not for Bobby, but for John. Whenever this mood overtook him, he was a force to be reckoned with.

"He touched you!"

"I handled it." I wrapped my arms about his neck. Prayed I could ease the wrath brewing to the surface. The unpleasant smell of sulfur seep to through the pores of his flesh. His body temperature rose one increment a second. He was hot. Extremely hot. So hot he scalded my exposed skin. I reeled back in alarm and I saw a ring of smoke start emanate off his clothing. What was happening to him? "John?" I reached for him but he evaded me. He swung around and bolted for the door. I tried to stop him, but knew that was highly unlikely.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after the attack on Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect.

Chapter VII

**_Pyro's POV:_ **

A sudden rush of anger barreled me down the lengthy hall towards a room garnered in the far side of the fashionable mansion. Within lay an old acquaintance with a power to alter the molecular compounds of water to ice. Visions of Marie's delicates skin and Bobby's foul mitts on her flared in my brain. Anger swallowed the better half of my good judgment. What reason and calm that had skated on the neurons had all but dissipated. I wanted revenge and would soon be satiated.

The bastard had  _touched_  her!

After a dark warning forged on contorted lips, he had the audacity to plant his fucking hands on my girl. Heat skated down my forearms and tickled my fingers. As I stormed down the hall, curtains adorning the windows began to smoke, yet I was locked in my own vendetta to take heed. I would show him—once and for all— _who_  was the man in her life. And I was going to make it hurt. I skated round the left bend and sped towards Bobby's room. Images of a bruised flesh and frightened eyes kept pouring into my thoughts, heightening my desire for vengeance. Kicking in his bedroom door open, I swept into his room.

Grave displeasure soured my facial features. His room, as always, was neat and tidy. Jealously and rage tore into me. Didn't Bobby ever give this golden boy routine a rest? Not only had it been annoying during the agonizing years I roomed with the tight ass, but it had also gotten on my nerves. I brushed whatever lay within reach of my fingertips. Adding a bit of disorganization here and there and toppling books. Satisfaction formed my lips into a smile. There. The room finally looked as if a normal person inhabited it. But my new found pleasure was caught short when my eyes zeroed on a picture frame resting on his night stand.

Crossing the room, I picked up the frame and eyed the contents shielded by a thin layer of glass. To my disgust, it was a photo of him and Marie. Snuggled and cozy, Bobby sported a proud grin while Marie's eyes twinkled with the love she held for him then. Maybe even now. In spite of everything, she was ever determined to hide her bruise from me. And why? Because she wanted to protect me or Bobby? Instantly the frame torched in my hands and I tossed it into the garbage can. I listened as the glass shattered and the fire cackle and grinned. I was glad to be rid of the last evidence of their romantic liaison.

"Whatcha doing in my room Allerdyce?"

My eyes sank and deepened into a menacing hue as I turned slowly to face Bobby standing in the doorway to his room. He leaned against the post, arms folded, glaring.

"Nothing," I replied, eyes glued to his face.

"Really," Bobby said as he moved cautiously into his room.

"Just passing through."

"So pass through," he snapped, "and get out!"

When I didn't budge he marked me with curious eyes then snapped to the garbage now burning fervently. "Hey!" He raced to the flaming can and shot out sheets of ice, snuffing out the fire. "What the fuck—no—!" He dropped to his knees and plucked out the charred remains of the picture frame and held it like a cherished doll. His eyes smoked with fury and rose to my face.

"Hurts doesn't it," I jeered coldly.

"You bastard," he sneered, pain evident in his voice.

"Likewise," I hissed. "It's what you get for you nasty stunt with Marie, and if you ever go near—" He tackled me dead on, slamming me into the closet. I felt my muscles smart and go rigid from the impact. A series of punches laced my face before I was able to knock Bobby back with a strong upper cut. He staggered. His legs buckled against the side of the bed causing him to drop. Two kicks to his side curled him into a ball, but as I lifted my leg to lay another series of kicks he smoothed the floor with ice. I slipped and fell hard, banging my head into oak doors making up the closet. He jumped to his fee and clawed at my shirt, dragging me a few inches when I whacked his legs from under. He crashed onto the floor in a hard thud and let out a guttural whimper.

"Pathetic," I huffed, once I had reclaimed my footing. Dizzy spells slammed into me, the back of my head throbbed. I stumbled and braced the wall, watching Bobby whine and cry from the simple fall. "That's always been—you're problem Bobby—you've never developed—a—any endurance for pain." I sauntered victoriously to him and plucked his face off the floor and forced him to look at me. "Makes me wonder what Marie saw in you."

"At least," he garbled. "She—saw—something—and I—saw her—a  _whole_  lot—of her." I stiffened, black shadows falling on my face. Arm drawn back my fingers squeezed into a tight ball. "No matter what you or say—my touch—blossomed her into—a woman."

Tremors surged through my raised hand, an odious entity overwhelmed me, and I wrapped my hand around his throat. I wanted to choke the grin off his face. Bobby struggled and kicked. His eyes screamed in terror. I relished in his agony and felt little mercy. I wanted him to die. I wanted to erase him from off the face the earth. Perhaps with him dead, I would no longer doubt Marie's vocation of love. Stalk her presence whenever she roamed the mansion. Awake to panic attacks and night sweats from nightmares of her back in Bobby's arms.

 _Perhaps_.

Perhaps, I should have been more aware of the situation and the madness taking me over. Perhaps I should have noticed Wolverine on approach, sweeping into the room and knocking me over with a powerful blow. Bobby crashed the floor and coughed to life. Ororo knelt at his side and cradled him safe in her lap.

"Jesus John," she cried in horror. "You could have killed him!" She lavished her attention on Bobby, coughing and wheezing, shaking most violently. "Breathe Bobby—you're going to be alright—breathe."

"Just you and me now junior," Logan clucked, licking his lips. He spread his hands and grabbed my shirt and threw me rough into a wall. My will broke into a thousand pieces. An insurgent of flames erupted and scaled the walls, engulfing the room in a matter of seconds. It took less than a minute for Miss Munroe to rise and dash into the hall with Bobby in tow. Wolverine, however, had no such luck. A blanket of fire devoured him, sending him into the back quarters of the room. I could hear the screams of Miss Munroe match with the riotous wails of Logan somewhere in midst of the golden-yellow inferno.

Sprinklers burst to life, however, could not disengage the unholy blaze breaking out from the room and into the expansive hallway. More screams littered the household. I tried to put an end to the fury but could not bring myself to sever the blaze. Its hold on me was unparallel, as if another being was taking charged of all my mental functions and my brain was now obeying only furor's command. The flames swarmed and feasted on all tender objects in its path then suddenly retreated when a singular thought came to mind.

_Marie._

Her face penetrated the fires washing my brain and I sank to the charred floor shaking. I couldn't consider the very thought that I might have killed her along with everyone in the mansion. Distraught, wary, I escaped and surveyed the damages and terrified students weeping in the distance. "John!" I heard Marie call out and saw her filing through the crowd. Her eyes were wide with fear, like the others she looked at me as if I were an abominable thing.

I hated the way she looked at me.

"John—wait!" I didn't answer more or less wait for her as I turned and fled from the scene of my destruction.

* * *

_**Ororo's POV:** _

Some might not call me a woman of faith. I've hardly had much to be thankful for in a life where one was abhorred for being different. Nevertheless, I've always tried to count the few small blessings granted unto me. Friends and health, I've cherished dearly, but in the last two years, I witnessed a number of those blessings dwindle. The lost of three of my closes colleagues and allies in a nation sworn against mutants was the heaviest blow. Sleepless nights and fears to another unsuspecting attack on the mansion seeped some of my strength and robbed me of my appetite. I couldn't imagine embracing the challenges left after the Professor's passing alone. Without Logan, I knew I would have ultimately been lost.

I gradually became dependent on his ability to take charge of any situation. His offhanded criticism and sly manner pulled me out desperate slumps. He reminded me that I was here for reason, even though, there were times when I knew he wanted to jump on Scott's bike and ride like the wind. Yet he stayed because he cared and I never realized until one night he stayed because of me. If it weren't for Logan and Hank both, I might have thrown in the towel, and sent the children home. I most definitely might have lost the mansion if not for Wolverine's super sharp sense that detected smoking coming from upstairs.

Standing amongst the debris and blackened walls of the east wing, I felt a sharp sense of failure cut into me. "Charles," I murmured under tears that slipped down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, I failed." The devastation lingering after Pyro's attack shocked me to a point where I felt weak. I turned and hurried away from the east wing distressed. I made my way down to the main floor and turned west. Striding pass the Professor's office, now my office, I came to a rotunda shaped door that protruded out a wall. I touched the button and it slid open.

"Ororo?"

I hardened at Rogue's voice and shifted to see the pale young girl approach. She looked terrified and willfully sorry. It would be so easy to be angry with her; after all, she was the one who brought John here. She was the one in a somewhat quiet plea forced us to accept him. Everything appeared to be working out just swimmingly but the truth set in like the ashes cooling upstairs. He didn't belong here, and Christmas, merely days away, was ruined.

"Not now Rogue," I said, exhaustion encircling me like a blanket. "I have insurance papers to file, contractors to hire, and I must see Hank about Bobby downstairs." I turned to enter the levitator.

"Ororo—I'm sorry—I never thought—"

"You're right," I snapped, "you didn't think. Like the first time you came here and ran away. It was always about you." I saw my words had wounded the girl, but it didn't really matter to me. I was angry and had every right to feel as I did. I took my eyes off her shocked expression and lifted them to the fluorescent lights fixed in the roof.

"How is he Hank?" I asked steeping into the metallic blue steel infirmary situated on the right hand side of the great hall.

"Snug as a bug in a rug," Bobby croaked and made efforts to smile, but I noticed he had trouble. I was stunned to see white layer of gauze dressed on his neck, blistered and red.

"I didn't think it was that serious," I said stunned.

Dr. Hank McCoy jotted a note in his clipboard and hung it on the end of Bobby's bed. "He's suffered minor second degree burns on his neck, which was gradually spreading to his face and chest. I've prescribed some Vicodin to take the edge off the pain and rubbed a cooling ointment. But his mutation was what really saved him. From what I've estimated from his burns, the damage might have been a lot more severe if Bobby's mutation hadn't systematically countered the heat threatening his body."

"That's why they call me Iceman," he chuckled and groaned.

"In my opinion young man," Hank said adjusting his glasses. "You're lucky to be alive, now you rest up while Miss Munroe and I have a talk."

"Just a moment," I settled on the bed, ever careful not to cause the young male any discomfort from the movement. "I need to know something Bobby. What caused that scuffle between the two of you anyway?"

"The guy's a fucking psycho," he shrugged, keeping the real details to John's violent attack to himself.

"What you're mouth young man," Hank rebuked. "It's a lady you're speaking to."

"Sorry," he shifted his head and gasped, looking me straight in the eyes. "I was minding my own business and I found the creep in my room."

"Did you do anything to spark his anger?" asked Hank.

He was silent for second then shook his head. "I did find him burning an old picture of me and Rogue and then he just snapped. I guess he's jealous of what we use to have."

"Jealousy is indeed a poor medium to secure love, but it is a secure medium to destroy one's self-respect. For jealous people, like dope-fiends, stoop to the lowest level and in the end inspire only disgust and loathing," Hank said with refined and polished elocution as he quoted a passage from Emma Goldman.

Bobby made a face. "What does that mean?"

Hank let out a heavy sigh. "It means you should read more." He touched the younger man on the shoulder and gave a hearty smile. "Rest up." He motioned for me to join him and I rose to follow him out of the chamber.

"What do you think Hank?" I wondered with great concern.

"I don't know," he scratched the side of his face with a large blue claw hand. "I want to believe Bobby, yet there's two sides to every story. You have no other choice but to speak to Rogue before making any decisions."

I lowered my head shaking it. "I've already came to a decision Hank, John must go."

He whirled around startled. "Now wait a minute Ororo, you can't come to a decision without—"

"He's too much of a liability Hank!" I cried. "His powers are unstable and so is he! He literally tried to burn the mansion down and almost endangered my students!"

"Charles Xavier built this place as a safe haven for all mutants," he said. "How would it look upon us if we cast out a mutant who was formerly one of his students?"

Tears welled in my eyes, I was shaking. "You weren't there Hank. John was like a man possessed by a demon. He could have killed everyone."

"I've read the boy's file," Hank sighed. "Xavier had trouble suppressing and controlling the boy, not to mention he's been in and out of foster homes, juvenile detention centers. He's been quite a problem for the law."

"And a great deal of trouble for us," I said quietly, recalling the numerous times I had sent him to detention and the Professor Xavier's office. "No amount constructive programs we provided seemed to alleviate his feral nature."

"It explains why he left to join with Magneto, but no matter, I feel it best that you speak with Rogue. She might hold the keys to John and Bobby's dispute."

"You think Bobby is lying don't you."

"Well," Hank cleared his throat. "He was madly in love with the girl and—I know—how it feels to want—a chance with someone—and lose it."

I drew back in alarm, mystified by his words. "Hank," I gasped.

He pushed a strand of hair out of my face with his large finger, stroking my cheek. "I waited too long." Lowering his hand, he journeyed to the far side of the lower levels and entered a small work room.

I could practically hear the splintering of his heart as he disappeared. I started trembling and couldn't stop. I was too stunned by the revelation and wrapped my arms about my torso. True, there was a profound connection between me and Hank, but he never made any insinuations that he cared beyond the friendship we shared. He was always sincere, polite and assertive. His boldness and dedication were often offset by a layer of skin that set him wildly apart from most mutants. I noticed that it made him feel vulnerable, ashamed even, and intimidated by women.

Taking the lift back to the main floor, I went over his avocations of love over in my mind, while climbing the stairs to see to Logan. Minutes after the fires had ceased, he had popped to his feet and staggered out of Bobby's bedroom. Flesh dangling from his skin immediately reset itself on his body. He grouped with anger from the prickling sensation and started in a mad search for John, no doubt to wring his neck. I barred his warpath and set him off to deal with the panicked students. I already had one person wounded and didn't desire and another fallen victim. However, I couldn't get what Hank had declared out of my mind.

' _I waited too long.'_

"Oh Hank," I cried and fought back tears. If only he had said something, if only there was someone for him. "If only—"

"If only what?"

I jerked in fright and spun around to find Logan towering above me. "Nothing," I let out a deep breath and clawed my fingers through my hair.

"Yeah I know what you mean," he grumbled. "If only that little shit wasn't here."

I eyed him sideways.

"What?"

"Have you seen Rogue? I have to speak to her."

"Last time I saw her she was heading back to her room." I moved past Logan and started down the other direction. "I have to talk with her."

"Let me," he said stopping me short. "You look beat. Besides, I want to clear the air between me and her."

"Alright," I nodded. "But go easy on her."

He smirked and kissed my lips. "Aren't I always?"

I tipped my head and made a face before leaving to make a few phone calls, and yelped when he slapped my rear.

* * *

**_Logan's POV:_ **

"Going somewhere?"

"Why should you care?"

Immediately, I got on the offensive. I should have known Cure or no Cure, a part of me eternally danced inside her head. I observed with mild patience as Rogue began to stuff clothes and shoes into suitcases. She looked at me one time before storming into the bathroom. I exhaled and let myself in.

"I didn't invite you in!"

I could tell she was angry because her accent was thicker than normal and her skin was flustered. "Give me a break kid," he huffed. "I had your best interest at heart."

"I don't think you ever had my interest at heart and I never asked you to become my protector, nor do I need one."

"Yes you do 'cause you've never made any smart decisions. And each time you ran away, or made a stupid ass choice," I bellowed. "I'm the one who had to clean it up."

She glared at me and spoke through gritted teeth. "I didn't ask you to! And I don't need you save me anymore!"

I threw my hands in the air. "Fine! But just think before make another of your so-called  _brilliant_  choices." I watched her lift one of suitcase with ease and slam it on the ground.

"This is not a choice, this is an action."

"So you're just going to leave just like that."

"Right after I find John," she sneered and tugged on a jacket. "Then he and I are catching the first plane back to San Francisco. He was right. We should have never come here!"

"Oh," I snorted. "So you're letting that punk call all the shots now."

"He's a good man Logan!" She fired in outrage. "And you would all see it if you guys weren't on the defensive against him. But your opinions don't matter. I love John and I'm not going to let any of you ruin this for me."

Her declarations knocked the wind out of me.  _Love?_  She couldn't love him. She deserved better than a two-timing henchmen of Magneto's. She broke out of the room and I rushed after her, determined to make her see reason.

"Rogue—wait—" I grabbed at her but she evaded me. "Listen to me!"

"No," she cried and shoved me hard. Her strength surprised me for she had sent me flying back a good feet. "Stay away from me."

By now our dispute was attracting a host of visitors and a heat of embarrassment rose in my face for one of many reasons. Firstly, a woman for the third consecutive time had me flat on my back. Secondly, we looked like a couple having a small dispute. God knows what I must look like to some of the students.

The word pervert came to mind.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I rose to my feet and started for my room. Ignoring the whispers and giggles, I faded behind closed doors. I tried to condense my thoughts and raging emotion when cries for help bombarded my eardrums.

"Fuck—what now—?" I charged out and galloped down the stairs to the foyer to see some of the students standing around Rogue's motionless body sprawled on the polished floor. "Jesus," I plucked her up into my arms and demanded answers. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Kitty said, her face wet with tears. "She started rambling then complained of a headache before she passed out. Is she—going to—be okay—?"

"I don't know, give me some room kids." I swung through the building crowd and hollered for Storm. She came bounding down the steps and covered her mouth in alarm.

"Logan what happened?"

"I don't know." I felt my heart twist as guilt's ugly hand strangled me. Was Rogue ill and had not told us and I might have pushed her over the edge? Dammit, why did I have to go charging into her room, weapons drawn? If I was itching for a fight, the person I should have crossed swords with was John. I carried her to the lift and emerged in the lower levels and shouted for big blue. He came hurrying down the hall.

"What happened?"

"Don't know. Kitty said she was complaining of a head ache then passed out. Can you do something for her?"

"Get her into the infirmary."

"What's happened to Rogue?" asked Bobby slowly pushing himself up to sit just as a procession of faculty and one limp Rogue in Logan's arms entered the chamber.

"Nothing," Ororo said and tailed the two men to an examination table. Hank slipped into a white coat and put on his glasses.

"Rogue?" Bobby cried out, walking towards the three, his burns making it difficult for him to make the effort. "What happened to her?"

"We told you we don't know Bobby," Ororo said. "You should be in bed."

"No, I'm fine. I want to be here for Rogue."

"Get him out of here," Hank muttered. It was all I needed to hear and proceeded to usher Bobby out the room. I knew it wasn't the big guy's protocol to kick a patient out of the sick bed, but I didn't think he could work with Bobby swarming and jabbering in his ears.

"No! I'm not leaving her. Rogue!"

"Come one kid," I said, literally dragging him out the infirmary. "Let the Doc work!"

"Rogue!"

Bobby could sure put up a good fight, but I managed to have him squared away upstairs. To ensure no further interruption, I changed the password that would deny anyone access to levitator. Rogue was going to need Hank's full attention.

Hours went by and I lingered downstairs pacing like a tiger trapped in the cage. Much to my displeasure I watched the good doctor run tests, x-rays, blood work, the whole nine yards. I felt the twitch of my claws and grew black with anger, ever reminded of the last time a group of doctors worked on me. I knew it was all for the benefit of Rogue, but it didn't mean I had to like it.

"Well," I demanded then second Hank entered the room again with his clipboard in hand.

He gave me a long look and took off his glasses. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"What?" Ororo asked worried.

"Something has sparked a new mutation to manifest in Rogue's DNA," he said. "But this is unlike the mutation she was born with. Whatever it is? It is modifying the X gene recently dormant due to the Cure and is slowly reconstructing her entire cellular structure to accommodate the mutation that will soon arise."

Ororo and I stared mouth's wide in astonishment. "Are you saying she's getting stronger?" I asked.

"That's precisely what I'm saying."

"You know earlier she knocked me off my feet without much trouble."

"Fascinating," Hank said walking to me. "What else did you note that was out of the ordinary?"

I glared at him. I didn't like the excitement rising in his eyes. "Nothing but a temper that mirrored mine bub."

He drew back. "I mean Rogue's best interest young man."

"Young," I cackled. "Buddy you don't know me like that at all."

"Apart from the mystery of you true age, you don't seem to act any other number above seven at times."

"Maybe that's because a bunch of educated dicks like you fucked with my head and—"

"Enough!" Ororo shouted. "Let's keep the focus of the discussion on Rogue."

"Exactly my thought," Hank said and turned to the female lying on the large flat table. I strolled to Rogue's side in great speed and marked the blue man's actions. He picked up a needle and I felt my claws peel out of my knuckles. Hank monitored my stance and carefully placed the instrument away on a tiny tray. I relaxed only slight and continued to watch him close. "It wouldn't do any good anyhow."

"What do you mean?" Ororo inquired.

"Rogue's skin has already reforged to the first onset of her new powers."

"What?" I was unsure I had heard him correctly.

"Yes," Hank said simply. "Her skin has become invulnerable to any manner of assault. I can't inject this vile into her skin. The needle would merely snap like a twig."

"But you took blood from her earlier," said Ororo.

"It was probably due to the stress on her brain as her mind tries to adjust to the erratic changes undergoing in her body. I believe as one power arises like the strength you claimed she revealed, another shuts off for while so that her brain won't go into overload."

"Does this explain why she fainted?" Ororo touched her brow.

Hank gave no response. Silently, he wrote something in his chart and walked to the other side of the room.

"Is there something you could give her," I asked, suspicious of what he was documenting on his chart.

"Unfortunately no," he replied. "I need more time to monitor her and discover the source of what has sparked this phenomenon."

"But you still haven't given us reasons to why she fainted," Ororo said.

He turned around his eyes weary. "She's pregnant."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after the attack on Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect.

Chapter VIII

**_Logan's POV:_ **

_Pregnant! Jesus_ _fucking_ _Christ_!

Black eyes squared on the sleeping kid, I took in the whole length of her body, before settling on her flat stomach. Hank's words suddenly slammed in. Rogue was pregnant...and that  _son of a bitch_...was the father. A strange coldness slithered up my spine along with a complete sense of outrage.

How could she be so careless? Didn't she use precaution? Wasn't she on the fucking pill or something? Endless question slammed into my skull till I winced in pain. At that moment I yearned to do more than kill John, I literally wanted to twist a razor sharp claw in his stomach, and expose his entrails to daylight. I virtually wanted to shred him to pieces. The familiar prick of indestructible metal pinched the flesh between my fingers and slid cleanly out. Enraged, I thrust a menacing claw straight into a wall.

"Logan," Ororo cried out and I cast a dark look over my shoulder at her. Clearly, she was displeased by my current reaction to the whole news.

"How long?" I barked, barely able to spit out the words, slowly turning to glare at Hank.

"Not long," he replied, shifting his massive bulk on the counter he leaned against. "I would say at least a month give or take. I noticed a spectral image in her pelvis region while I was performing the x-rays. I thought for a moment Rogue might have developed fibroids until I used an ultrasound machine. It's a good thing our x-ray machines uses a refracted form of light to penetrate the body or the radiation emitted from an ordinary machine might have caused the fetus harm."

My lips twisted as though a foul taste were in my mouth. A month...a  _fucking_  month...which meant that slithering piece of shit bedded her way back in November. I clenched my fists and started to pace.

Ororo swallowed, somewhat unable to sway her shaky emotions. "Is she going to be okay—considering—"

"Oh, yes, of course," he said in a cheery voice. "What Rogue experienced was one of the many normal symptoms women undergo in the first trimester. Mild headaches, dizziness, and fainting spells are all due to low blood pressure as her body adjust to the growing fetus. Nevertheless, this does bring some concerns to light."

"Like what?" Ororo opting to receive the impending bad news off her feet dragged a chair across the floor and sat down. As for me, I couldn't stop climbing the wall. Frustration and rage seemed to mount with each second. All I could think about was Rogue and the child growing inside her belly. I wasn't the happiest of guys at the moment, but never for an instant would I not be there for her, especially if that sniveling weasel abandoned her. And I had sinking feeling the sleaze would run with his tail in between his legs.

"As I elucidated earlier, her entire genetic structure is already altering, heaven knows how this process could effect the growth of the fetus."

I froze. "Are you saying something could happen to her baby—like—it could die?"

Hank's frown deepened, pronouncing the wrinkles in his brow. "This is the first case study of such an event I've encountered, there's no telling what to expect the next few months. I'll have to have close access to her, which means—"

"So much for your aid in mutant affairs," Ororo sighed willfully. "I'm sorry Hank—I could contact Dr. Moira MacTaggart if it's a problem."

"Nonsense," he straightened and smiled at the weather goddess. "I'll just rearrange my schedule and check in every two weeks to see that everything goes smoothly." Hank removed his lab coat and hung on the rack. He cleaned up his work station and washed his hands. "I would have to advise you all to maintain an open mind about this whole situation. I know John is not you're favorite candidate at the moment, but he is the father of her baby."

"Don't remind us," I grumbled.

The Secretary stared at me but I dismissed his stern countenance. Accepting the fact that John was the father of her baby maybe one thing, but there was no fucking way I was going to like it. A breathless catch of air tugged my sensitive hearing and I turned to see Rogue slowly regain consciousness. I let out a haggard sigh, pleased to see the kid was going to be alright.

_Kid?_

Rogue was no longer a kid anymore. She was going to be a mommy. "How are you doing kid—Rogue?"

She blinked and touched her forehead with a trembling hand. "Where am I?"

I took her hand and held it. "You're down in the infirmary," I said.

Her gaze reached the crest of my face, before exploding into frightened eyes that grew large in fear. "What?"

She started to rise but I pressed her back on the table. "Whoa! Take it easy."

"Why? What happened?"

"You took a nasty fall."

I just didn't know how to tell her. I guess deep down I still saw Rogue as that lost frightened kid I picked up off a lonely highway some while back. Now, she was a full grown woman and was going to have a baby, and the father was my  _enemy_. I allowed Hank to take the reins. He broke the news far more gently than I could have. I observed the change in her expression. Her brown eyes enlarged and her right hand found its way to her belly. A gleam of happiness shadowed with fear and doubt cooled the blush on her cheeks.

Something jerked in me.

I couldn't believe she was going to have a baby. I faded into the background and listened as the eminent Secretary enlightened her on the do's and don'ts of pre-natal care. I also observed a change in Storm's countenance. She appeared somewhat delighted about the whole affair. I was relieved to see the stress of this mornings hell fire was melting the tension off her face. But something about the way she moved closer to Rogue, held her hand, and rubbed her shoulder. Ororo's movements revealed an intimate desire she kept well hidden.

She wanted children...someday.

* * *

  ** _Rogue's POV:_**

I didn't know whether to be happy or scared? Whether I should leap for joy or crawl into a dark corner and weep? Dozens of emotion penetrated every cell of being; not to mention raging hormones, and a porcelain toilette bowl that had suddenly become my new best friend. Discomfort, nausea, and a disagreeable desire for the most unappetizing array of food, all had certain nosy people living in the mansion pecking into my business.

It wasn't long before the notorious Jubilee discovered what I and others in the circle of three that had seen to my care downstairs had discovered. I was pregnant. I squeezed back a laugh that ended in a shiver. Even in the cozy warmth of the mansion, I found it difficult maintaining an adequate body temperature. Perhaps it was due to another manifestation taking place, one Dr. McCoy and I had another endless discussion in the Professor's study. Or perhaps it was two days since anyone had seen John. Two  _damn_  days since a terrible upset had rocked the foundation of the household and he had all but disappeared.

Where did you go John!

My heart screamed during the day and tears soaked my pillows at night. I tussled in fitful nights that delivered no peace of mind or sleep and I howled at people who crossed my path in the morning. The only pardon I received for my random outbursts, next to the crisscross eyes and haggard exhales, were rested on the pregnancy hormones sweeping my veins. But I didn't care what people thought of me anymore, which was surprising, only John mattered. There were moments I wished for the Professor's resurrection from the dead. He would find John I know he could.

Without Magneto's surreptitious stealth, the Professor would have been able to find John in a matter of seconds, and demand his return. Force him if necessary to come home, then I would strangle him for making me worry, before overwhelming him with kisses and telling him the good news. That's if he would see it as good news. Certain things didn't appeal to John and bringing a child—who would know doubt be a mutant—into a world riddled with hate was like an act of sin. He had made it clear—in a conversation that had spiraled into talks of marriage and children—he was in no position to be a father. Much less ready to become one. His words hurt, but he was being honest. How could I deny him that?

Helpless, I sat alone in our room, resting on the padded ledge that jutted out the base of the ceiling high window on Christmas morning. It was a White Christmas, just like ones I had seen many times since my arrival at the mansion. The downside to living in the South was the lack of snow. Restless hands fiddled with unopened gifts. We had the usual Christmas breakfast that was silent as a graveyard and the passing of gifts. I knew many blamed me for the dismal day. It was why I retired to my room the minute I was given my gifts. I had to get out of there anyway. I couldn't take the bitterness and angst slowly bubbling to a full scale volcanic eruption. I couldn't stand Bobby.

Up and limping about with Kitty on his heels, he goaded my nerves with his bogus sick man ruse. I was sure he was responsible for whatever it was that triggered John so violently. He stared at me with hatred and betrayal and I returned disfiguring looks with equal intensity. I was glad to see he had gotten exactly what he deserved. He could have received more, yet that didn't matter.

"John," I whispered and choked back tears. "I hope—"

Nausea.

In a flash I was in the bathroom hovering over the toilette bowl. I wanted to die right then and there. Afterwards, I struggled to my feet. I felt disgusting. Gripping the sink, I washed my mouth out and brushed my teeth. Splashing water on my face, I reached for a towel on the rack but it was barren. I swung around and saw Kitty holding it out to me. "Thanks." I took it from her and dabbed the cool moisture from off my face.

"Are you alright?" She asked, brown eyes, large with concern. I looked as she stood as if she were about to flee from my presence. I wanted to question why she was here; instead, I sat down on the toilette seat clutching the towel in my hand.

"I'm fine," I replied, rolling my eyes, and tucking a wayward platinum strand behind my ears. "As well as could be expected."

"I just can't believe—" She stepped into the bathroom, hesitant, her gaze fixed on me. She lowered her eyes to floor. "So, it's over for you and Bobby then isn't it?"

I reacted slightly. Was that why she was here? To ascertain whether there was a fleeting chance Bobby and I would patch things up? Foolish girl. It was what I wanted to say, but rather than tease the doe eyed mutant, I held out a hand suggesting she take a seat on the bathtub. "It's been over for a long time Kitty," I remarked. I dared not venture into details of my own jealousy and bitter misgivings towards her as my thoughts scratched the memory of a frozen fountain and a pair skating hand in hand. I dismissed the heinous recollection and shifted full front to Kitty. "Things changed—people change—I guess the love we shared—faded."

A pained expression contorted her dulcet skin. "I'm not so certain of that," she griped, wringing her hands. "I—I think—he's still—in love—with you."

It didn't seem that way. Bobby's anger was evident every time we ran into each other. He was mean and downright hostile. Where there was once love in his eyes, hate brewed. Sighing, I flung the towel aside; it hit the wall and slid into a hamper. "I never meant to ruin things for you."

Kitty straightened, stunned. "Ruin? What are you talking about?"

I cocked an eye. "Kitty," I exhaled. "The whole world knows you are in love with Bobby."

She held her breath, which seemed to last forever, before letting out the pent out oxygen in a puff. Her shoulders fell forwards as if a weight had been removed and she burst out sobbing. "It—its—all—wrong?"

All I could do was hold her and rock her gently; there were no words to relieve her anguish. Damn Bobby! How could he not care for so sweet a girl? Eventually, Kitty was able to contain her rattled emotions. Leaving the bathroom for the comforts of bedroom, we sat and gossiped on the latest affairs. Unfortunately, I was the center of the circle.

"I can't believe you're having a baby," she squeaked in delight, bouncing on the bed.

I shook my head. "It wasn't planned," I patted my stomach, like most things in my life.

"That doesn't matter," she said wistfully. "It's the first baby in the X-mansion. Oh, the Professor would have been so delighted."

"I know."

Kitty's countenance fell. "He would have found John too."

I clenched my eyes shut. "Let's not droll on that," I said heavily, touching my forehead.

"Rogue—"

"Did you see the gift Logan got for Storm," I said quickly changing gears. I didn't feel like unburdening my woes at the moment.

Kitty flashed a sad smile and nodded. "A charm bracelet, yeah, it was lovely." She smoothed the covers with her fingertips and looked at me. "Why do I get the feeling there's something going on between those two."

"You'd be surprised," I said snagging a sugar cookie from off a plate and offering her one.

"Really," she cried biting into the sweet treat. "Do you think Logan and Storm—"

"Logan and Storm what?" We both jumped simultaneously and peeled our visions to door. Solid, tall, Wolverine stood in the doorway arms crossed, a look of interest on his face. "You wanna tell me what's supposed to be going on between me and Ororo." Kitty blushed madly and wasted no time in rising and skating out the door. Logan glanced over his shoulder, before arching a brow at me. "What was that about?"

"Girl talk," I replied pushing a few gifts about with my feet.

"You haven't opened your gifts," he said, reclaiming Kitty's place on the bed.

"I'm not in the mood," I sighed. I heard him snort and narrowed my eyes. "Don't start Logan." I rose and began to walk about the room.

"I didn't say anything," he said defensively.

I whirled around glaring. "I know you."

"Fine," he scoffed, eyeing my movements. "But you're wasting your time."

"Logan—"

"It's been two fucking days Rogue."

"Logan."

"He's not coming back."

I slammed my fist into the wall. "You're the ones who chased him away!"

"Rogue—"

A headache split my cranium and I winced. "Leave me alone," I whimpered and escaped into the hallway. I walked by a few students who had come out to investigate the commotion and retreated inside when they laid eyes on me. I was a marked woman. Many were wise to stay out of my path when these tempers took me. Winding through the mansion, I reached the controlled environment of the greenhouse. Ororo kept the place a toasty 80 degrees. An ideal temperature for many of the exotic plants she imported. On edge, I moved about the tropical paradise somberly, touching a leaf or exquisite petal here and there. I tried to purge Logan's voice from my head, but they continued to circle like vultures.

_He's not coming back._

Tears broke free. I sank to the hard concrete and wept. It's not true. It couldn't be true. "John," I sobbed. "Come—home—I love you."

Meow.

Startled, tear filled eyes sought out the sound and found a black cat quivering beneath wild vines strung high and was now coiling about the leg of a table it hid. A cat—here—odd! I rose and beckoned the creature out from under the table. Its coat was smooth like black polish, reminding me of Ebony. "Where did you come from?" It purred and nuzzled into my bosom. I chuckled and started to carry the creature inside, finding it strange how I'm always rescuing stray cats.

Just as I stepped out of the greenhouse, I bumped into Logan. "There you are. Listen—Rogue—about what I said—hey—where you find him?" He asked nudging his chin to the cat in my arms.

"In Ororo's greenhouse," I said, stroking its fur. "Poor thing." I felt the animal tense as he approached and gently rubbed its back. But when Logan reached out to pet it, the feline hissed, swiped a paw at his hand, and scampered out my arms.

"Well—" he said in a low howl. "That's odd."

"It shouldn't surprise you," I said without feeling and started heading in the direction the cat had disappeared.

"What the hell is that suppose to me?" He barked after me.

"Do I have to sing it for you?"

After a successful search for the animal, I fed it milk and took it back to my room, grateful for the company. Retreating to the bathroom due to circumstances I couldn't control I came out moments later and froze in horror. Sitting in place of the feline, lips curled in a mocking smile, was a blue skinned mutant with glowing yellow eyes.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she clucked, crossing her long legs.

"Mystique!" I gasped.

"Darling," she drawled. "Don't you mean Ebony?"

* * *

  ** _Pyro's POV:_**

It was wrong. So fucking wrong.

Need for speed increased with each sharp turn I took on the lone highway. Blinded by anger and inane sense of direction, I slammed hard on the gas pedal, and Scott Summer's sports car sped into the night. Quickly acquired through skills obtained from a gun toting mutant with a taste for thrill and grand larceny, I followed the road to perdition.

No one tailed. No one care.

Figures.

Shit!

It was all wrong and over so fast. Everything I had worked so hard to build— my life—Marie—destroyed. Fuck! Why? I knew why? It was doomed from the beginning; I saw it yet refused to believe it. I should have let her be. Leave her to a sad resolve of a severed relationship and a broken heart. Nevertheless, I lingered on the hope of a chance I had lost over two years ago, but I was all for shit!

Just shit!

I hit another corner and swerved as sheer ice graced burning rubber. I regained control and yet had control of nothing. It was my lot in life. Whatever I touched would eventually be destroyed. No cure or prayers could divert the curse that was my life. I tried to play the hand of a good man but failed. What to do now? I wasn't sure. I simply drove. It was the only logic.

South of the Canadian border I came to a small town and docked for the night. I left Scott's car to the fate of the gods, as I found shelter in a nearby bar, and solace in a shot of Scotch. As the new stranger in town, I felt people's eyes poke into my shoulder blades, but they were mindful to keep there distance. In the grim shadows draping the tavern, the oppressive madness of what transpired ate at me. But what took a greater hold was the loss of Marie.

I wondered how she was and if in fact those bastards had finally driven their own sense and conclusions about me into her head. Had she turned? Did she give up on us? Fucking Bobby! This was all his doing. The picture of the two of them cozy and content burned in my brain. I slammed my fist on the bar top gaining the attention of everyone in the room. I glared at those I locked eyes with, hoping, waiting, itching for a fight. Anything to distract me from my own inner demons. When no challengers advanced, I lowered my head into my hands, clawing through the tangled locks.

"Marie," I chocked out in a strangled cry, fighting the tears burning in my eyes. "I—I—"

"I what my boy, love you?"

I jerked in the stool and gradually sat back straight. That voice—that accent—how could I forget it? It was forever tattooed in my mind. Subtly, I shifted and saw a haggard old man sitting beside me. His unruly grey hair reached his shoulders and an unkempt beard shrouded shrunken lines and deep wrinkles.

Magneto?

No, it couldn't be. I had known the man for a greater part of a year and he would never degrade himself to look like a worn out old cocker from off the streets. Appearance was the forerunner to his disposition as was the desire to situate mutants to a dominate status over humanity. And yet here he was dressed in a tattered plaid jacket and moldy brown pants and a crooked cane rested against the bar.

I looked at it then to his sullen face. He sat quietly drinking a glass of water, never once laying on an eye on me. "So, what's with the cane?"

"Just keeping up appearances, my boy," he replied.


End file.
